


Almost a Bar Fight

by Balisong7



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Drunkness, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Polyamory, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome - M/M/M, post-war AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-04-24 03:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 66,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balisong7/pseuds/Balisong7
Summary: When an overstressed Optimus was kicked out of the Council Hall by a furious Ratchet to get drunk tonight, he did not expect to find Soundwave at the bar, too.It didn't go terribly wrong from there. And as always, Megatron just had to crash into every battlefield like a bullet. In both good and bad ways.





	1. Almost a bar fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for later chapters  
> No beta  
> It's my firs transformer fic. Please go gentle on me...

It all started with a seemingly genuine advice from Ratchet. An unusual one as well for Optimus who had known the ambulance all his life.

“You need to get drunk.” The ambulance said, optics locked on the readings that tell all the stories of a stress-overwhelmed system.

“You mean I need to be sedated for further procedures.” He questioned.

“No.” said the ambulance.

The Prime shot him a look that even he himself couldn’t figure out what exactly was he trying. It worked like a nod, or at least that was what it eventually turned out to be in the optics of his oldest friend, who decided to turn around and started gathering his medical belongings peacefully when he saw it. He was too exhausted to object by then. And just like that, he was banished from the Council Hall.

Drinking your way back to your work was a bad idea. He should have known that he really wasn’t thinking clear by clearly thinking it would work.

And that was how Optimus found himself at the only bar outside the Council Hall, the only bar in the whole city of Iacon as well, also the only bar on the whole planet, drinking like a teenager who had no idea what he’d been doing except for the fact he was no where near getting drunk.

He was getting too much unwanted attention, for a moment he really wished that Megatron was here. They might not have started or ended the war as buddies, but they always suffered together.

And that was when everyone heard the door, turned around and saw Soundwave. All of a sudden all the attention on Cybertron seems to have gained a price drop.

However the blue cassette player did not return what he received by walking directly to the seat next to Optimus. In a bar full of civilians, people dared to whisper, until someone in the corner with a Decepticon badge quietly mentioned the rumors of Soundwave’s ability, then people began to exit the silent battlefield, leaving the deafening silence started to thrive. The bartender of the day, a dark-coloured seeker that Swerve has agreed to work with might have visited Earth during the war, he turned on the radio to fight it.

“You are thinking too hard.” some one offered, the radio hummed softly in the background.

Optimus turned and looked into the red visor of Soundwave.

“You are unnecessarily stressed.” the offer was repeated, surprisingly.

“What do you suggest.” Optimus reasoned.

“I suggest you get drunk.” Soundwave turned to look at him directly in the optics, it was hard to tell with that mask and visor, it suddenly struck Optimus that Souldwave would at least have to take off the mask to drink. Curiosity got the better of him and that pushed him off his personal edge of self-alert in front of an old foe.

“I am, eh.” He paused with a sigh, then tried to relax himself more by stretching his joints, “I’m working on it. You probably can already tell, that I’m not very good at it. At least not any more. ”

“Side effects of upgrade.” Soundwave said more matter-of-factly.

“Megatron?”

The tape deck nodded.

The prime nodded along while carefully turning back to his unfinished drinks, that was when he threw his battle at the bartender, saying.

“But on the upside I finished the whole menu tonight, can I buy you a drink just to see if you might like it?”

After finishing the latter part of the offer he frowned and suddenly realized how much more it sounded like a threat right before an intended battle than he originally planned it to be. He immediately apologized.

“Sorry.”

The tape deck nodded softly.

Then it wrapped up itself in peace. The music continued to hum softly. Slowly some more mechs walked in to take the vacant seats left by those who decided to call it a night when the Decepticon TIC walked in directly to the side of the Autobot Prime. And the new customers did not seem to notice the strange duo who quietly sunk in the darkness by the corner. It was strangely soothing, Soundwave seemed to have this charm of dragging himself and his surroundings into a shadowy zone. The thin layer of laughter that started to brace the bar again was nice and intoxicating. But not enough to get a Prime drunk, not quite.

A frustrating itch in the Prime’s spark chamber silently reminded him he had more drinks to finish.

Despite his companion’s internal suffocating, with a sound of click, the former communications officer drank all the high grade in his cube down his throat through an unmasked mouthplate in a manner that greatly resembled his Lord. In one sip. Which, both Optimus and the bartender were trying to avoid eye contact to witness, for it seemed both too intimate and intimidating. And for Primus’ sake that cube in Swerve’s servo was not getting any cleaner.

However once finished his first drink of the night Soundwave put down his empty tube right away. He turned to face the Prime again and repeated himself like the boombox he was.

“You are thinking too hard.” He said, ”You are unnecessarily stressed.”

This time Optimus could only do the same, after all, he did show inappropriate impoliteness the first time, “What do you suggest?”

“I suggest you get drunk.”

“I already told you I can’t.”

But the other mech only stared at him, “Yes you can.”

It was weird to look at him and see a face, more so when you realized there was actually an expression attached to it. Soundwave looked at him confused, obviously bothered by his insistence that he couldn’t get drunk.

“Larger frames require proportional ingestion of nutritions to saturate internal needs of one’s mechanism.” He stated. “Upgraded, there is no reason that one’s mechanisms can not be activated correctly and similarly by extra ingestion as long as one has not been operating on additional discipline protocols to avoid such situations.”

“Yes, you are right,” Optimus protested by agreeing, “and I’ve consumed enough tonight to prove your theory.”

“Then you should deactivate your protocols that specifically keep your from getting drunk.” Soundwave insisted.

“It’s an impossible task.” Optimus protested again.

“If it’s because of my presence.” He offered.

“No.” The answer popped out immediately, then the Prime paused to himself, then said it again, “no.”

But soon he brought himself to ask, too. “You can sense my stress by sitting next to me.”

“Affirmative.” The telepath confirmed.

“Then you must have read my mind enough to know it is not, your presence that’s been keeping me from getting drunk.”

The telepath confirmed again, “Affirmative.” then he added, “Intention: respect.”

Something is telling the Prime he was not the only one who had been troubled and off-minded tonight. But tonight the former communications officer gave in to him surprisingly fast.

“I’m inexperienced in casual communications that requires mutual respect and privacy, ” the tape deck explained quietly, without his mask he probably sounded more emotional than he intended to be, but he had his fair share of high grade tonight, probably didn’t notice, “as privacy is merely a hallucination in my presence. I can only try by pretending otherwise. I suppose that is simply another act of disrespect to you. You’ve witnessed your fair share of liars during the war.”

The confession was unexpected yet sincere. It caught Optimus off-guard.

But then the tape deck offered again. “I guess I’m a bit drunk myself.”

This time Optimus went with it more at ease, “Glad one of us is enjoying himself tonight.”

The might-be-a-bit-drunk telepath saw a chance to reset their path of small chat back to its original path and simply took it.

“You should deactivate your disciple protocols, too.”

Optimus made a mental note of Soundwave’s unexpected stubbornness and sighed to himself.

“As I said, I can’t.”

“Why not.”

He hesitated before giving in. His unexpected companion did give in to him after all. It’s only fair that he returns the favour.

“It’s the Matrix,” he stated, “it’s base coding has been stopping me from getting overcharged as a default self-defending protocol. I’ve never really got drunk ever since I took the Matrix. ”

However, this only got the decepticon looking at him more confused than before. The tape deck leaned forward, for a moment Optimus almost activated his combat mode, but the slight scent of high grade from Soundwave’s venting system as he leaned forward to examine the Prime more carefully reminded him that the mech in front of him was not trying to do any harm, he was merely drunk.

Finally Soundwave seemed to have gathered what ever information he was looking for. This time, he returned to his seat looking more confident, almost in a childish way. It was amusing, to see him like that, but Optimus was more curious about what he had to say.

“No it’s not.” Soundwave said. “It’s not the Matrix.”

Optimus tried to protest however the other didn’t give him the chance.

“Your stress level is extremely high. You have over-written your usual coding with an unhealthily high level of self-discipline protocols as your coping mechanism.” He concluded, “You are doing this to yourself. You need to get drunk. ”

Oh.

The theory struck him in awe. Maybe that was what Ratchet meant by giving him that look.

But he didn’t buy it yet, not quite. Optimus Prime, somewhat decided to push further.

“You can’t explain why I never get drunk after bonding with the Matrix.”

“Maybe you were too stressed up because you took the Matrix?”

The tape deck made a gesture that implied he was trying to find an answer, it turned out to be even more childlike. Some high grade is getting into his system for sure. He leaned forward again to declare himself.

“You probably started putting too much pressure on yourself ever since then.” He said, “since you took the Matrix.”

“Prove it.” said Optimus at last.

To his surprise, Soundwave only nodded in agreement.

He extended a cable to him but stopped before touching him. The communications specialist might have just blinked twice behind his visor. He stayed that way hesitating to himself, as if all of a sudden he was wondering if he was pushing too far. It was Optimus Prime who sat in front of him. He might have mistaken him for some one else for a few breems.

Something made Optimus wonder if this was what Soundwave looked like when he was with Megatron alone. For the first time of this bizarre night, he didn’t want Soundwave to back off.

Then Soundwave did back off. The decepticon TIC sat back into his seat looking a bit embarrassed by himself, yet to Optimus’ delight, he didn’t give up. He returned to his calm, soft-speaking self, offering the cable while holding it in servo instead of stretching it like a tentacle.

“You may touch me.” He said quietly.

Optimus blinked at him, frowning. “What does that mean.”

“It means I can ease you from your stress with my telepathic abilities.” Soundwave explained, “By maintaining physical contact, a direct telepathic reflux will be activated, through which your emotional feed will automatically run into my system. However, a telepath’s system will automatically sort out external and internal information and the emotion feed from external individuals will be quickly released into a void zone. In this way, I will be able to help you sort out your stress level. Once your stress has been lifted from you into my system, your normal mechanisms will kick in. You may get drunk.”

“You want to hack me.” Optimus pointed out flatly.

“No, my protocol enforces that such reflux can only be maintained by the one who initiates it,” Soundwave shook his head at his response yet didn’t seem surprised or offended, “I offer you to hack me.”

For a brief moment, the two locked optics. The music radio was no longer humming, some pop rock softly kicked in. For one thing, the music, although less comphrehensive when played through radio, was encouraging.

“It doesn’t need to take long.” Soundwave persuaded, “you can break the contact in a nanoklick. It’s safe procedure. Both my cassettes and Megatron seem to enjoy it. Though they tend to take their time, I won’t allow you that.”

“Touch you where.” Optimus eventually asked. It could be a trap. But tonight the decepticon obviously gave in to him more times than he did him. But still, it could be a trap.

“Anywhere you want.” Soundwave offered matter-of-factly. He sounded strangely innocent.

Eventually the prime gave in and stretched out a digit.

His digit reached for Soundwave’s shoulder, touched for a split nanoklick then quickly moved away.

The Prime sat completely still for a suspiciously long klik, long enough to have half the Autobots in the bar grow worried.

But then the Prime only ex-vented and ordered another drink. This time, more cheerfully. The delightful dizziness that embraced his system felt so familiar and overdue. The Prime turned to his unexpected companion of the night again.

“I have to say you might be right.” he said awkwardly yet also blatantly, ”Now may I ask again if I can buy you a drink.”

The tape deck turned his helm just to hide a chuckle in an angle that only Optimus caught half of the sight.

“Affirmative.” He monotoned.

They had too many drinks that night before everything went all the way down to the Pit.

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment


	2. illegal cuddlers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta.  
> It should be obvious by now that I'm not good at English.  
> Sometimes you try to make fluff stuff and it just have to end up gross.

Somewhere during the second round Soundwave simply dumped his cover. He no longer acted as an intimidating lightweight who walked stoically during the day yet smiled shyly when revved up by high grade. There was no more need to talk dirty words while posing a childish gesture since the Prime probably could no longer tell the difference. If only a sober Prowl was accidentally passing by, they’d shove him right away.

And wouldn’t that be a pity. He liked the idea that he can have a drunk Prime all to himself tonight. But no in the way that others might assume. He might have started the night by wondering what an overcharged Prime at the bar would look like. But in the end, he got something much better than a treat of energon.

He simply sat next to his happy companion who was too busy indulging his 4 million years overdue drunk night to put two and two together. He allowed himself to sink into the sensation that powered over him. He even secretly adjusted his empathy to drown in Optimus’ pleasure just to enjoy some more, to consume some more, to drink more sips of his treat. The Prime did promise to entertain him, after all.

However he was not prepared for the booming sensation when Optimus, who was clearly wasted by now, threw his entire frame at him to hug him tight and held him down to his chasis. The direct emotion feed caused by physical contact almost crushed his processor instantly and those servos which had been upgraded by Primus himself certainly crushed his paint job. For a klik Soundwave was struck senseless by pure happiness that he helped to create. It took every drop of his self-control to keep himself from weeping of joy right there and then. Before he could manage to make up his painful decision about whether he should break away right now or allow himself to enjoy another nanoklik, Optimus Prime seemed to have a different idea first.

“Whoa,” he seemed genuinely surprised by Soundwave, definitely not by himself, “you are very light!”

He shook his servos to prove his point, Soundwave’s frame shook with him reluctantly.

“Physical contact: undesired.” Soundwave eventually managed after closing his mask.

However Optimus did not let the topic slide away, “You are too underweight for your frame size.” 

“Soundwave: average weight for his frame type.”

And that ticked Optimus into his right mind. The loss of his symbiotes left enormous holo space in a carrier’s frame. He retrieved himself from the contact he initiated, too fast that Soundwave activated an internal diagnosis protocol to see if he accidentally let out some of his own emotions during their contact, and sighed in relief when the diagnosis returned a negative ping.

“Sorry.” Optimus looked sincerely embarrassed. Soundwave could easily sense his embarrassment beginning to replace the excitement from a moment before. Reluctant to let go his treat of the night, Soundwave quickly apologized back in his own way.

“Soundwave: only startled by unexpected physical contact.” 

“Sorry,” even Optimus looked younger without his battle mask, “It just suddenly occurred to my blurry mind that you said earlier that I can touch you tonight.”

He was then silent for a klik before admitting to the both of them.

 ”I used to hug Ratchet a lot at his parties and he’d let me. It was a miracle that he did not kill me for the sake of his secret. And who knows, now I might not survive another night since I just let his secret out. He may appear any moment now with a shinny silver wrench in his hand and it will be the last thing I see.”

Optimus smiled sadly to himself as he told their old, embarrassing story that almost seemed like from another lifetime, but then looked hopefully at Soundwave as if he wished this could cheer him up.

Soundwave paused for a moment before retracting his mask again to take another sip of his high grade.

“I also told you what I can do with a single touch of a digit tonight.” His soft, softer than usual real voice kicked in again.

 “I wasn’t expecting anyone to try and touch me again so soon after a confession like that.”

“Oh.” was all that the Prime said. He buried his forehead into his left palm and placed his elbow joint on the bar table. His system was running hot, and it made Soundwave start to worry about him. But in the meantime, there was a voice deep down in his chasis telling him if Optimus hadn’t figured out his intentions tonight already, he was about to see it now.

Eventually the half-way sober Optimus Prime turned to face his now oh-not-so-innocent companion of the night again and spoke the words of the night.

“I think we should stop making this night a sad one.” He then asked curiously, ”Does your offer still stand?”

Soundwave began to look nervous, even if one could hardly tell by looking him in the optics. He perfectly maintained his cool and ordered that faceplate of his to stay as still as possible without reclosing his mask again because it would look too suspicious.

“Yes.” He eventually managed.

“Good,” Optimus nodded before finishing his last drink in one long last sip, “’cause I want to invite you to my apartment. And I want to return your favour by hugging you senseless.”

Soundwave almost smirked at the bold and sweet invitation when a familiar rumble of vocalizer suddenly cracked from above.

“I think you might want to repeat what you just said, Prime.” said Megatron who’d been standing there for Primus know how long, his facial expression alarmingly blank.

“Carefully.” and he emphasized.

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this very moment:  
> Optimus was trying his best to prepare his pacifist self to go drunk-and-provoked on Megatron because obviously this was the Cybetronian bar fight tradition he never got to try as Orion.  
> Soundwave only realised his Lord was pretty much stunned by the the load of sweetness he just witnessed yet would burn down the universe before telling it to a dead turbofox.  
> And Megatron was clueless.


	3. Double wasted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta.  
> Very bad English  
> Should get more sleep.

For someone who was as drunk as Optimus, he was surely being impressive when he literally radiated calmness when he caused a scene by hugging the communications officer of the Decepticons who was, actually more responsible for all of this than anyone had thought.

The Prime was surely a bot known for his calmness. But he was never known for keeping his cool around Megatron of all mechs in the universe. And for his, for their credit, all the mechs in the universe knew exactly THAT. That was when all the nicely sizzling crowd in the bar began to exit the scene for the second time tonight. Even the bartender excused himself and quietly fled the soon-to-be battlefield. However, as always, Soundwave could not find such excuse for himself, even though he found it difficult to choose a side this time.

“What brought you here, ” said Optimus with a hint of bitterness, ”must be some burning emergency to bring the almighty warlord to walk among us in a small bar.”

And that seemed to have somehow grounded the ex-warlord. The huge, silver mech visibly took half a step back at what he just heard, or more accurately, at what tone he just heard. Those red optics frowned at his oldest friend and foe, disapproving.

“Unbelievable,” he concluded, ”you got yourself drunk in front of Soundwave.”

“Actually your Soundwave got me drunk in front of him himself.” Optimus corrected.

After a pause long enough to make Soundwave nervous, finally Megatron turned to directly face his TIC and asked.

“Is that so?”

To that Soundwave nodded, trying not to look too eager.

“Affirmative.”

Something tickled in Megatron’s field, the edge of his mouth twitched slightly, that was the very moment when Soundwave came to the realization that he wasn’t wearing his mask, and his voice was raw as slag. That he needed an excuse to flee this battlefield just as bad as everyone else, but simply too involved with both side to make up one.

Somehow Optimus seemed to have get the message, and he interrupted.

“Soundwave, I hope you don’t mind getting us some more ice from the kitchen. Since both bartenders just disappeared into thin air I hope you’d be able to find his stock without breaking anything using your outstanding ability.”

And Soundwave didn’t need to be told twice. However, when he exited the bar through a door that supposedly lead to the kitchen, Megatron added.

“And don’t forget to come back.”

With those words, he sat himself into the seat Soundwave left.

Now they were truly alone with each other, face to face, optic to optic. Two shiny cubes of unfinished drinks stared at them from the table.

“I take it that he did his little trick on you.” Megatron broke the silence.

“What a surprise to hear you say something right in a long time.” Optimus commented with half a smile, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“And I never took you as the needy type,” said Megatron, sounding less accusing than he usually was, “how long did he touch you?”

“Less than a klik.”

“And that made you into this mess?” Megatron seemed to be genuinely surprised this time. “I take it back. You are not needy, you are eager. One klik now you can’t wait for more, can you? ”

“Maybe you are right.” said Optimus, “And I seem to have heard that he did it for you too. Tell me Megatron, is this why you’re storming in like a mech in rage? Because I touched something yours?”

“Oh dear Prime, always the one to jump to conclusions.” Megatron laughed loudly, “Is it something they teach you in that Council Hall, to jump to a dumb line through assumptions and try to confirm it by simply ask?”

For a nanoklik Optimus looked annoyed. It was frustrating to see how Megatron could still beat him on being the more annoying one even when he was the one being drunk.

The frustration inside must have shown on his face, because Megatron leaned forward in an intimidating way to whisper something even more intimidating.

“What if I’m angry because he touched something __mine__.”

Clink.

Both mechs turned around to see a Soundwave carrying cubes of frozen drinks sneaked under the bar table. A moment later he reappeared on the other side of the bar, playing new bartender of the night, mixing drinks without paying attention to either of them.

Optimus stole a glance into the bar table and realized he was actually reading a datapad of recipes possibly left by Swerve.

Relieved, Optimus left him be and continued his conversation with Megatron.

“But I seem to recall you said ‘my Soundwave’ just now.” He protested, “And I don’t remember being yours.”

“With that sorry bunch you call a new government, you might just be mine sooner than you’d imagine.”

“I might have to remind you there are decepticons in the said sorry government, too. A lot of them, actually.”

“Yes.” Megatron looked at him with his usual evil smile, ”and Starscream was one of them. If that’s not saying enough here I don’t know what else do you need to hear.”

“It’s not like some others, weren’t invited.” Optimus protested again, gesturing to his small audience of two.

“Oh in case you haven’t being touched enough tonight,” Megatron simply took the newly mixed drink offered by their new bartender Soundwave and took a sip, ”Soundwave is an Outlier with telepathic abilities. There will only chaos to have a telepath working within those walls built to keep secrets inside.”

And Optimus, hearing his words, didn’t take the other drink offered by Soundwave. Instead he turned to Megatron with a questioning look.

“And you think it’s a good idea to say it here.”

Megatron only shot him a dirty look.

“Save your energy, Prime. He hears whatever mechs say from the other side of the Iacon. Pretending otherwise is even more offensive for someone who benefits from his ability on regular basis. And since you did your thing and got drunk that counts you in. How about you stop pretending and start making things easier for all of us.”

And Soundwave, when Optimus turned to see his approval, had his mask on again. He was unreadable, but he offered his new special drink again.

This time, Optimus accepted the cube and took his sip.

Amazed, he took another sip before putting it down.

“Swerve would kill for the recipe of this thing.” He laughed, “My night just keeps getting better and better.”

Megatron visibly sighed. He turned to Soundwave looking defeated.

“He really is wasted, isn’t he?”

 Soundwave already had three cubes ready and lined them up like a troop. He pushed another one in front of him.

“Yes, my lord.” was all he said, “And I suggest you do the same.”

This time Megatron questioned nothing.

Later that night Ratchet received a comm in his recharge, requesting him for some urgent assistance on a non-medical condition.

“Why is the situation urgent to me when it’s non-medical?” Ratchet questioned loudly through the comm.link, then paused to ask again, “Please don’t tell me it’s about a drunk Optimus Prime hugging the slag out of whoever sits next to him.”

“Worse.” the caller managed, “He got Megatron.”

Ratchet slammed a hand onto his face and sighed hard.

“And may I ask who’s calling?”

“Soundwave.”

Ratchet slammed both hands onto his face and sighed again.

When he rushed to the only bar in town he was just in time to catch the show of Optimus hugging Megatron like a cyberbear, and Megatron sleepily wrapping his left servo around the other’s waist as if they were good buddies. Judging on how drunk they both were they probably counted as drunk buddies now. This image was definitely gonna mentally scar him for the rest of his functioning. A very embarrassed Soundwave looked at him almost hopefully.

“Let’s,” Ratchet swallowed hard, “let’s separate these two.”

To his surprise, Megatron was, in fact, cooperative. He let go of Optimus’ waist almost instantly once Soundwave got his shoulder. Optimus was being extremely difficult. He just won’t let go. The strength he put in his unique hugging skill is magnificent, he can swear Megatron’s armor was actually cracking under pressure.

“Deal with those fingers.” Ratchet eventually yelled out.

Soundwave immediately reached for Optimus’ hand, when he was immediately grabbed by those fingers himself. Megatron’s heavy frame slammed into his middle section due to the force he applied to break them apart. Now the drunk ex-warlord was caught between them with Soundwave awkwardly resting on his shoulder and Optimus’ firmly holding his hand.

“Thank you for the night, my friend.” Optimus murmured happily, already half asleep, “Your touch was great. The songs were great. And you made me great drinks, too. I have to express my gratitude before I leave.”

“You are welcome.” said Soundwave still maintaining his awkward pose.

“And I would like to do it again sometime.” said Optimus who still wouldn’t let go anytime soon, “With less Megatron-ness next time. I mean, the guy’s fun to be with sometimes. But generally speaking he’s just a buzzkill. Don’t you agree?”

Considering how the Megatron was literally carrying their conversation over his very firm, rigid, and spiky shoulders, Soundwave was wise to nod fast and hard instead of answering verbally.

“OK,” the drunk Prime was finally satisfied, “we will go on a date then?”

Now everyone who was not drunk in this bar paused. Ratchet stared at Soundwave who was as expressionless as he could be, waiting to see how he was gonna answer that.

To his surprise Soundwave retracted his mask first to answer in his unmodified voice. He suddenly sounded very quiet, in a tone that was calming and soothing, as if talking to a sparkling. It was hard to tell whether he was actually taking the question serious or simply trying to coax the Prime to let go.

“You are drunk, Optimus.” he softly offered.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”

“Then you can, if you wake up tomorrow and still want to.”

With that, both side let go of each other and the four of them collapsed into two messy piles on the floor. Ratchet quickly shot the other sober one a questioning glare before he began dragging the already asleep Prime toward the door.

The situation is a bit more troublesome for the other pair since the carrier wasn’t designed to carry some mech __outside__  his body. However, Megatron actually woke up a bit just enough to try walking on his own while still leaning on his companion.

“Did he just ask you out?” He asked sleepily.

A no was all that Soundwave could manage.

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment.


	4. Flowers and a warlord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta and bad English.

The next solar cycle Optimus woke up in a panic that he was gonna miss the morning meeting, but when he realised he was actually lying in a berth in Ratchet’s medbay with a helmache that he had not experienced in ages, his processor slowly came to the realisation that his morning meeting wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon. May Primus have mercy on him, he might eventually make it out of this room within today. Swallowing hard from his mixed feelings about hangovers, he sent Ratchet a comm.

“My friend I have risen again from the fallen.”

Shortly after his message, his old friend elegantly entered the door with a few datapads in his servo.

“Glad to know you’ve recovered some old sense of humour. It’s really gonna make my day.”

Exhausted, Optimus could only nod.

“How are you feeling.” the Ambulance began.

“I hardly missed this feeling.” he murmured quietly, “but nontheless, it’s familiar.”

“Good.” Ratchet casually ticked a few things on one of his datapad, “It means your processor is functioning normally. Stress level reduced compared with the readings yesterday. Now you are free to go.”

Optimus stared at him, clearly assessing if he actually was awake.

“Don’t give me that look.” Ratchet wasn’t surprised, but sounded more tired than usual, “FYI you checked yourself in last night. And contrary to common belief, I’m just an old medic, I’m hardly capable of fighting off a Prime.”

“Oh, and don’t worry about your morning meeting. I called Ultra Magnus this morning, you’re a free mech today as long as you want to keep it this way. But I suggest you sort out a few awkward situations before you return back to work tomorrow.”

“What situation.” asked Optimus who was trying to ease his helmache by nudging his optic ridge with a digit.

“Oh you know, hugging people, flirting around, acting extremely out of character, all the old school stuff.” said Ratchet in his fake I’m-explaining-important-slag tone, “In short? You did something very inappropriate to some very inappropriate mech. And it’s not me I’m talking about.”

A long pause.

“Oh.” said Optimus. Then he said it again, more desperately, “Oh.”

“Guess you don’t need me to elaborate you on the matter then. Good. ‘Cause I don’t want to either. Then please allow me to excuse myself from your hangover berth to some real patients.”

“Wait, please.” the Prime managed to sit up before the medic exited the door, ”Please do elaborate. On how to apologise to the inappropriate mech in the matter. You know how bad I’m at this. Mercy my friend. You sent me to get drinks after all.” 

“Well I didn’t really expect it to happen.” admitted the ambulance with a sigh, one hand on the door. He hesitated for a long moment before saying, “Listen, I don’t know everything but he seems like a decent mech half of the time so I won’t tell you no. Just, go get some metal flowers. And do choose a good colour.”

He sounded slightly too concerned to Optimus’ audials.

With that the medic finally exited the door.

 

Someone called in the the Decepticon Command Centre later that afternoon stating there had been a anomaly at the front door.

“It’s a,” the guard reported carefully, “a low risk yet high priory case. According our observation, it needs to be attended to by our Lord himself.”

The line went to Soundwave, who, without even looking at the surveillance feed, tagged it “Optimus Problem” and sent it directly to Megatron’s private line.

Growling, the ex-warlord appeared at his the gate of his own base, to meet a Optimus Prime who was clearly our of his mind. He brought a bunch of blue metal flowers, to his door, in broad daylight! As if it wasn’t hard enough for Spec Ops of both sides to contain those videos from last night!

“What do you think you are doing?” Megatron growled at him.

“Apologizing,” Optimus offered dryly, “Primus below I’m bad at this.”

“Damn right you are.” Megatron only glared, ”I don’t even know what you are talking about. Apologizing for what?”

Optimus shot him a blank look, suddenly looking very serious and formal.

“For conducting inappropriate and non-consensual physical contact with you last night.”

That glare of Megatron suddenly faded into a thick wall to cover embarrassment.

“If I haven’t known you for millions of years,” he said dryly, “I’d think you’re telling a dirty joke.”

His old foe seemed slightly annoyed by his comment, there was only this much courtesy in the world for Megatron.

“You accepting it or what?” The Prime didn’t try to hide his frown.

“Of course.” said Megatron with exaggerated politeness, then he stepped aside to clear the way, “Now go ahead and deliver those flowers to him. Don’t say I never helped you.”

To his surprise, that only deepened that frown of the Optimus Prime.

“Who?”

Megatron looked at him suspiciously, “Who are you giving those flowers to?”

“I brought them to show my apology,” said Optimus, “to you.”

And that, obviously, caused Megatron to snap at him.

“Me?” His voice rose with a hoarse honk, ”Me? I thought you were better than this! You are unbelievable! Is this what you woke up today and concluded? Unbelievable!”

Then he stormed toward the Prime and seized that bunch of sorry flowers in one grab then stormed off with bold steps right toward the gate. Delicate blue petals fell along side.

Startled by his sudden change of mood, Optimus was left alone, looking stunned. Surely he had a firm drunken hold that could easily snap one’s neck if he tried, but Megatron? He couldn’t even crack that rusty bucket helm with a good punch. A drunken hug couldn’t have done THAT much harm.

Before the warlord could have left with his poor flowers, he caught that silver servo of his.

“Have you accepted my apology,” he asked, “or not?”

“Damn it Prime! Yes!” Megatron shoved him away, trying to hide something more fragile with his anger, “I accepted! Now take a hint!”

The gate closed behind him, leaving that trail of petals and the clueless Prime outside.

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OP: your average hangover young mate.  
> Megs: sad tired old man with feelings and now also a bunch of flowers.


	5. Beacon of campaign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta. Bad English.  
> Same as usual.

On his way back from the decepticon command centre, Optimus received a comm from Ratchet again.

“I told you to solve the awkward situation,” the medic was barely containing his anger, “not to make it worse.”

“Through the years, I had hardly ever gained the ability to control Megatron’s rage.” Optimus protested, “I tried my best.”

“Did he object on the matter?”

“No.” said Optimus, “for his credit, he did accept my flower.”

“I know Megatron took your damn flowers.” snapped Ratchet, “I’m asking about the other mech.”

“I’m afraid you have to be more specific.” Optimus, running in his truck alt-mode, had to slow down his tires a little to deal with the echo in his audials, “As far as I know, we were alone.”

Paused, the medic tried to contain his rage, when he began again, his voice was low and blank.

“I mean Soundwave.” 

“Oh.” Optimus relieved, “But what I did with Soundwave last night was non-aggressive and consensual. That’s hardly a problem I can’t put to another day. I plan on taking it slow. I’m sure he will appreciate it too.”

“That sounds like a decent plan,” said the medic, who then, immediately pitched high, “except it’s not! Because half the Iacon saw you flirt with him at that damn bar, yet the other half just witnessed you deliver a bunch of flowers to Megatron instead!”

The truck-former parked side-way, transformed and fully gathered himself from the helmache. He vaguely remembered what, or who had truly got him drunk last night, the image of the blue mech blurred in a pleasant way in the back of his processor. However, with Megatron’s rage on one servo and Soundwave’s affection on the other, it was only fair to say that at least the TIC was hardly ever known as a someone who destroyed things because mech kept him waiting for another day. A date surely needs more planning time than an apology. But...but there was also something very much more important to question about right now regarding what Ratchet just shouted through his comm.

“What do you mean by ‘witnessed’?”

 

Upon a videlo call directly made from the Council Hall, Starscream launched a joor of sassy, fussy, whiny, bitter, and angry lecture at his suffocating home audience about what the slag just happened because obviously, he had an inside man in the decepticons who filmed the show. No one even questioned why exactly did he need an inside man when he was as inside as a decepticon could be.

“We are just gonna ruin the peace because Megatron is at it again! Primus below I’m the only commander who works with those Auto-slaggers in this damn Hall because you are all too coward to take it! Now I’m not gonna let you old, rusty fool ruin my everything again because of that damn crush you are so in denial about!”

“Just for you information it is not about my crush on the Prime!” Megatron fired at his SIC through their video call, ”Not that I have any crush! On any Prime! Primes are all bastards! I hate them all! Even if I do, I would never, ever let something stupid like this to drag down the fate of Cybertron! ”

“Oh, right.” Starscream laughed bitterly before switching the screen to something else.

It was the video of Megatron and Optimus aggressively arguing over a bunch of blue flowers outside the Decepticon Commander Centre. Definitely a candid video since most words weren’t even audible, from the two of video, only words like “consensual” “physical contact” “dirty joke” “apologize” stood out. The video ended with Megatron shouting “Take a hint” at the Prime.

Someone chuckled quietly behind him. Megatron turned to see the ever-so-serious mask and visor of his TIC.

“Take a hint, indeed.” Re-entered Starscream, “Optimus Prime, your mortal crush, brought you flowers, to your door. And you shouted it to his face: Take a hint.”

“I told you it’s not about me.” Megatron had to state it all over again since the seeker was never listening.

“Oh then please do humour me, who else is it all about?”

“Soundwave.” he deadpanned.

“Like pit it is. Nothing is ever about that drone of yours!” It was actually pretty nice to see how energetic Starscream still was these days, while everyone else all looked like they need therapy, “My mighty lord if you just have to put down your giant ego and find an excuse to date your 4-million-year-old crush. Consider it as whoring yourself out for the sake of Cybertron!”

And the video call simply ended that way.

Megatron rolled his chair to face his other officer who stood still this entire time right across a table. After a long stare at that impassive visor, he sighed and dumped that bunch of blue flowers to their command table, knocking a few datapads aside but still more gentler than he intended it to be. Not even a petal was shed this time.

“Take it. It’s for you.” said the ex-warlord dryly, “It even has your colour.”

Soundwave simply played a clip of Optimus’ voice.

“I brought them to show my apology, to you.”

His commander pinched his own forehead, “Well wouldn’t that be a lovely mistake? I overreacted, I apologise. Deliver my apology for me if you may. I bet he’s coming back for you soon, even sooner now that he’s caused a scene, probably with another bunch of flowers, preferably red this time.”

Soundwave answered the question by playing a clip of Starscream.

“Nothing is ever about that drone of yours!”

Megatron simply put down his servo and ordered, “Retract your mask and answer me with your own voice.”

When Soundwave complied he asked again.

“Did you plan this all along?”

“Negative.” Soundwave monotoned, “Fact: temporary telepathic connection integrated with Prime’s following experience. Effect: false affection, short-lived comfort. Result: action easily forgotten once effects weakened.”

“So you never believed he would come back for you at all.” asked Megatron.

“Affirmative.”

Megatron carefully examined him for a while, then ex-vented heavily. “And ain’t that a first? I, Megatron of Kaon, was the only one who believed in the ideals among the crowd.”

Soundwave stayed silent for a while before carefully leaned against the table in a slightly intimate way.

“You are in pain.” He tried.

“Is that so?” Megatron casually picked a piece of blue petal off the table then crashed it between his claws.

“You went to meet the Prime believing he was coming to invite me.” Soundwave plainly stated, “But in fact, he came for you. You found it delightful. Then he revealed an unexpected reason.”

“I do not,” Megatron repeated himself in vain, “have a crush on Optimus Prime.”

Soundwave, ever the loyal one, nodded in agreement obediently but also absent-mindedly.

Megatron snorted, ”What is your point? Go date him like now half of the Iaconians believe we should? What do you even intend to do if we truly become bondmates?”

“If Optimus takes the title of your spouse,” said Soundwave, “I will accept his role as my lord’s equal and serve both of you.”

Megatron managed a half-hearted laugh, “Your idea of how relationship works sometimes horrifies me.”

Soundwave opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, but he paused silently, a sign he just received a comm and was answering text only.

Turns out the invitation finally arrived.

Caught up in his silent conversation, Soundwave turned to look at Megatron as if seeking for approval.

And Megatron wasn’t any less approving than he was last night, “Say yes.”

Just like that, the call was ended.

“How did it go?” asked Megatron, fondly.

“He would like to meet me tonight.”

“Good.” Megatron nodded again, “Go ahead and knock him out. Wrap him around your fingers. Have him helm over heels. Avenge me for my embarrassment today. That’s your mission, soldier.”

“Acknowledged.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which, Optimus discovered the downfall of fun, Megatron refused to come along, and Soundwave was on a mission.


	6. Dancing date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta. Bad English.   
> Same as usual.

Later that night, they met in a dark and small alley uphill overlooking Swerve’s bar from afar. Cool night air that flowed between the quiet narrow roads hummed softly.

Soundwave slowly walked up toward Optimus while the latter mech watched quietly from above.

“This place: not what Soundwave pictured our first date would be.” When he arrived, he admitted to his date.

“Neither do I.” Optimus apologetically stared down the view of Iacon. “I suppose I miraculously messed up a lot of things within one day. Swerve rejected my entry tonight so here I am.”

“Soundwave: also responsible for the trouble caused within the last two days.” The tapedeck monotoned, “Trouble: initiated by a touch.”

“A touch I initiated.” Optimus had to argue.

Soundwave shrugged, “Ratchet: should be careful what he wish for.”

The Prime nodded to himself, “I will deliver your message.”

Soundwave turned to look at him in the optics, “Soundwave: also carrying message. Megatron: sends apology.”

Optimus froze with a frown. Before he could manage to say anything, Soundwave approached with casual but firm steps. The distance between them narrowed by half.

“Optimus: feel it unfair.” The tapedeck said with one blue finger raised between their frames, toying with nothing, professionally not touching, “Optimus: apologised with flowers. Megatron: apoligised with nothing. However: statement. Untrue.”

His last two words almost turned into a whisper. He retracted his mask revealing his lower face, and for which his voice suddenly became much clearer, but also much blurrier,masked by small unfiltered noises of ex-venting, calm but alive.

“Megatron: send Soundwave. Soundwave: better than Optimus’ flowers.”

And that, sent Optimus into a considerably long silence moment. From afar, the humming radio changed rhythm, although the lyrics blurred beyond comprehension, it must be a new song.

“Yes.” The Prime eventually went down with both sincerity and shame, “You truly are.”

But are you his to give? The question was unspoken between the two.

That seemed to have satisfied the former, and also still very in service spy, for he retreated his untouching fingers, regained their distance before he collect his EM field to another tight roll of mysteries.

“Soundwave: now on a mission.” He stated as if it answered the unspoken question, “Mission: of seduction.”

Optimus felt his spark sunk. He really couldn’t release himself from the frown he’d been carrying the whole day.

However the spy continued his one-sided speech, “Purpose: revenge. Prime: target. Prime: inescapable. Prime: might as well enjoy.”

Frowning ever so deeply, the said Prime offered his surrender. To this point, it was obvious to him that the tapedeck mech was mad at him. Quite a shocking thing to see how someone can be so passive and so passionate at the same time.

“And what do you intend to offer to torture me.”

The tapedeck merely corrected him by stepping back a little, purposely putting a distance between them.

“Torture: unnecessary. Soundwave offers entertainment. Soundwave, offers date.”

“Soundwave, offers himself.”

And with that, he wriggled his body to the left, then to the right. His steps quietly matched the rhythm from the incomprehensive song from afar. If the song ever really had lyrics, it’s written all over his moving body. He kept his movements simple, baby steps for starters, yet the elegance hovering around his joints gave him away. He was capable of something breathtaking, but choose not to show. Not yet.

He was trying to teach Optimus to dance.

“You can’t be serious.” Optimus was deeply embarrassed to say the least. “I’m not gonna do this. You are the worst.”

“Choice: not Optimus’ to make.” Soundwave offered a hand, “Punishment: only Optimus’ to take.”

It was only then that Optimus realised that same song from Swerve’s bar never stopped ever since Soundwave stepped into his sight. It was playing itself over and over again.

“You hacked Swerve’s music radio.” He said. “Just to get me to embarrass myself with a dance.”

“What’s wrong with a music radio hacking another.” The blue radio mech droned innocently, still with one servo offering.

Amused, finally the Prime accepted his fate, he raised his own servo in response.

“May my torturer have mercy. At least don’t show the video to Megatron.”

Suddenly withdrawing the offering hand in a luring fashion, Soundwave gave him the choice he asked for.

“Megatron or Starscream.”

Reminded of the touching policy, Optimus growled in frustration at the unfair question.

“Starscream.” Sometimes even Megatron could be the lesser of the two evils.

Soundwave answered by suggestively raising his chin. And Optimus finally moved with him, clumsily.

That was when the music from afar suddenly stopped. Soundwave paused, his dance stopped, his visor dimmed and relit in a way that could only be explained by his optics blinking behind it. He turned to look down the magnificent night view, as if trying to acknowledge the accident.

And Optimus was relieved, even not for long.

“They must have shut down the power.” For the first time tonight Soundwave spoke without his usual drone-likeness. Optmus tried not to wonder.

Then Soundwave simply touched himself, in one of those ever-so-mysterious buttons on his lower section. Music began to flow from his two white thighs. Those hidden speakers surely knew where to hide.

“But you don’t need that anyway.” Said the spymaster with a equally well-hidden smugness, “You are dating a music box.”

 

Next morning, Megatron was greeted online by a video footage of a dancing Optimus Prime.

It was beyond hilarious.

He didn’t even to need view sender’s signature to tell who made this recording. Somehow after all these vorns, Soundwave still managed to amaze him with zero failure.

A request followed the video.

_Mission continues? (Y/N)

He answered Yes by text since he was laughing too loud, and Soundwave surely knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	7. Movie night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta. Bad English.  
> Warning: feelings.

Despite the bizarre beginning, everything seemed to turn out to be just fine. Only one or two decacycles later did Ultra Magnus confess to him that there was a betting pool within the Hall.

“Mechs were betting on which one you were actually seeing,” he appeared to be unnecessarily guilty with his confession, “but things were settled when you fully returned back to work after Ratchet called in to enforce your leave, I’m glad to see you work more efficiently without pushing yourself too far.”

“What happened to the betting pool.” Optimus had to admit he was a bit curious.

“Called to a full stop since there was no information to be seen regarding the matter. The information, the result, to be precisely.” Ultra Magnus explained with a slight hint of embarrassment written over his face, “Some Megatron supporters, surprisingly equally orientated from both sides, declared that they won, because obviously some intense situation like that would explain the information censorship. But the others, Soundwave supporters, mostly decepticons except for, Jazz and Prowl obviously, argued that if anyone was to do such thorough media regulations, it was certainly Soundwave himself. Nothing explains it better than Soundwave getting himself actively involved. Neither were able to convince the others so it ended quietly.”

Then he paused and admitted to himself, “I was genuinely surprised that Prowl participated very...actively, if not aggressively.”

“Or he simply hoped it was Soundwave,” Optimus felt obliged to defend Prowl’s reputation a little bit, “for various reasons. He was the one trying to contain such information on Autobots’ side. He might have found himself entitled to use a bit sympathy for someone in his position.”

“I believe you are right.” Ultra Magnus looked relieved for a brief moment before returning to his overtightened self, “I should invite him for a drink at Swerve’s too. It obviously went well on you. I can definitely use a few drinks myself. Can’t remember when was the last time I touche engex.”

Optimus smiled warmly, “Please do send my greetings to Swerve.”

“I will.” Ultra Magnus smiled in return.

 

While words were all about politeness and courtesy with your colleagues, they may appear in different expressions when the same story was told to an old friend instead.

Ratchet let out an abrupt laugh on him which was both terrific and terrifying.

“He made you do what?” He laughed again, ”Don’t answer me just yet. I’m busy composing a poem of compliment dedicated to Soundwave here.”

“Please.” Optimus, “He was actually hiding an ego bigger than anyone had assumed. It’s hardly necessary to stroke it for him.”

“He made you dance.” Ratchet laughed.

“For our first date. Yes.” Optimus admitted again.

“And in the following dates, which he invited you to instead of the other way round, he taught you dancing, singing, playing guitar and a fragging harp?”

“And chess.” Optimus added. “It appears to me that he only teaches me what he can certainly beat me to scrap with.”

“Damn right.” Ratchet laughed, “’cause you beat no one on anything except for Prime-ness. That’s just your post war time boy Optimus Prime.”

“I totally beat Megatron to scrap.” The postwar Prime protested.

“Of course.” Ratchet answered sarcastically, “And I totally didn’t fix you from scrap either.”

The Prime yielded.

“OK,” he ex-vented heavily, “You can compose your poem. But you’ll be delivering it on your own.”

The ambulance snorted at the stated consequence. “You got me there. I’ll save it for another day.”

Then he paused and began again more seriously, “But you sure the ‘con’s really dating you? Dancing, singing, and musical instruments? Chess? As a medic I guarantee they are healthy fun activities but Is it just me or he is actually more into training you into an escort?”

“Or a noble bride.” Added him again.

 “Both are terrible implications, my friend. Disturbingly terrible implications.” Replied Optimus instantly.

“You never know. It’s Soundwave.” The medic shook his helm, “You are saying he’s been inviting you for these training session, or dates as you may call them, I suppose it’s time you turn the table on him.”

“You always have the most practical solution to everything.” Agreed Optimus.

What Optimus did not tell Ratchet, was Soundwave’s mission.

 

Within the same decacycle, Soundwave was proposed with a request for a movie night.

“You can pick a movie and I will set up the equipment at my place.”

“Soundwave: possess better media equipment.”

To his delight, Optimus wasn’t against the idea of watching a movie at his place instead, which, as Soundwave predicted, was due to his curiosity of his private space furniture settings.

He was, after all, a mystery both to both decepticon and autobot ranks.

“What are you going through those earth trash for?” Unfortunately his behavior was drawing too much attention from his now too bored master.

But he was not a mystery to Megatron. Thought Soundwave. Never to him.

So he shrugged.

“Browsing for earth movie. Purpose: killing free time.”

To his surprise, the warlord picked one from his unnecessarily large collection.

“This one is tolerable.” he said, “Mind if I borrow your equipment?”

An idea slipped Soundwave’s brilliant mind.

“As you command.” He replied ever so obediently. Little did he know how much price he was to pay for this decision.

 

Later that night, when Optimus arrived at the coordinates the tapedeck sent him, he was greeted by Megatron at the door.

“What in Primus’ name” The warlord began, but cut himself off abruptly, one servo thrown over his face, “Never mind. Come in Prime, this time, don’t cause a scene.”

To which Optimus obeyed, thought slightly annoyed. Later he was greeted by Soundwave, who was connecting cables into himself one by one, from what appeared to be a projector and an audio processor.

“Is Megatron staying ?” He asked.

The communications officer simply nodded, gesturing to one more cable from the other side of the room.

“That one.” He said, “The last one. Then we may begin.”

Optimus walked toward the cable, picked it up and returned it to him. Soundwave opened another port on himself and plugged it in. Judging from the number of cables connected to him, he certainly had an impressive number of ports, much to Optimus’ horror.

When he was done with all the cables, Soundwave transformed and landed on the floor in form of a boombox. On the screen, the movie began to play, with audio output flew directly from Soundwave’s speakers. There wasn’t any cinema on Cybertron, yet. But in this small room of Soundwave, all of a sudden it was close enough.

“Carry him closer. What are you waiting for? He doesn’t move automatically like an autobot in his alt-mode.”

Behind him, Megatron tried to cover his embarrassment with grumpiness as always. It didn’t work as well as he planned.

Because the couch, apparently was only the size of two mechs of their size.

Optimus obviously noticed it the klik he walked in, too. Grabbing Soundwave by the handle, he ignored Megatron and sat himself on the other side of the couch. The boombox was placed between them on the floor.

The two of them awkwardly stared at the screen side by side in a cozy couch, with a boombox that was Soundwave playing private cinema sound effect between them.

The movie certainly had a long intro.

“So,” Optimus broke the silence, “this is what he meant by, better media equipment.”

Megatron only replied reluctantly but surprisingly fast. “Do you want to argue him on that?”

“No.” Said Optimus, “Never.”

Megatron made a sound that was almost a snicker, “Wise choice.”

A breem into the movie, despite the usual rivalry, they were both relaxed as a pile of turbofoxes. And they both blamed the too cozy couch for it.

“Who chose this movie.” Optimus asked, looking at the opening scene on the screen.

“Soundwave.” Megatron lied.

“It’s a war movie.” Optimus pointed out.

“A star war movie.” He corrected.

“Huh.” Optimus said nothing more. “You know earth culture more than I though you would.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” said Megatron.

“It is a compliment.” said Optimus.

Clearly they both find bantering with the other more enjoyable than the movie itself. Probably because it reminded them of their old days. As their life changed drastically, it served as the only constant remained. Even though there’s no real rivalry between them now any more, they still pretended so. If only they themselves could notice it. If only all other Cybertronians could all notice it.

Because Soundwave certainly did.

As the sound of sparks of both leaders began to sing soothingly, the boombox’s mind drifted away into the sea of their emotions. Calmness, peace, protectiveness, affection. All he ever needed was here in this room, even if they were not particularly subjected to him. A telepath knew better than to bargain.

As quoted, nothing was ever about him.

He fell asleep quietly with his speakers on.

 

One or two joors later, Optimus was woken up by Megatron.

“Did I just...” He looked at the cozy couch beneath as if it was something monstrous.

“Recharged for a solid joor on the couch?” Megatron talked to him in a low voice, “Yes.”

Optimus turned to see a now blank screen. “The movie ended a long time ago.”

“Well,” Megatron paused, “yes, too.”

“Did you fall to recharge too?” Optimus asked.

“Don’t let me regret letting you sleep on the movie.” The ex-warlord replied angrily.

“So it was your movie.” Optimus figured.

“No.” Megatron insisted.

After a good nap the Prime wasn’t in a mood to argue either, he only turned to look at Soundwave on the floor, still the perfect blue box he was. He opened his mouth.

Before he could begin, Megatron cut him off by covering his mouth with a servo.

“In case you didn’t notice,” he said, “he fell asleep about 3 breems into the movie. Must have been telepathically transmitting a hypnotizing signal subconsciously during his sleep, the way he did with his cassettes. Now you speak quietly, he hasn’t been having enough recharge ever since he lost those minions of his.”

Optimus stared at him speechless for a moment. With enough evidence suggesting full cooperation, the servo covering his mouth finally moved out of sight.

“This is not how I pictured the night to be.” He admitted. “Not how I pictured you two would interact, either.”

“Always the one full of preassumptions,” commented Megatron, “a typical Prime.”

Typical or not, Optimus simply nodded, “You know, since you send him on this mission. I’m under the impression that he’s trying to train me for you.”

“Huh.” Megatron pretended to be not interested.

“Don’t worry I haven’t told any autobot about your strategy yet.” He admitted sleepily, “It is so far, by no means a political measure. Singing, dancing, musical instruments, board games, embarrassing yet enjoyable, I’ve been improving, and he was certainly training me in a way I can better entertain those decepticon minds as an autobot, by presenting entertainment in the least aggressive way. More specifically, I think he’s training me to be able to entertain you.”

The sentence “In a way that we wouldn’t try to kill each other.” was left unsaid but still heard. Yet the missing part made the last piece sounded dirtier than necessary.

Megatron looked at the Prime in the optics, those blue things flickered in the dim light of the movie screen. He snorted.

“Soundwave was under the impression that I have a crush on you.”

Optimus paused for a moment before asking carefully, “Do you?”

Megatron looked at him straight in the optics, “What do you think?”

Those red optics shone in the dark the way they shone in Optimus’ dreams for millions of years, most of them were nightmares, but others were not.

“Like pit you do.” He lied blatantly.

To that Megatron laughed, he looked genuinely happy, the way Optimus thought he’d never see again.

“That’s what I like so much about you.” Declared the ex-warlord.

“I must go.” He said.

“I believe so.” Megatron sleepily gestured the door.

He untangled their limbs and headed to the door, it looked like Megatron was staying. At least Soundwave wouldn’t wake up to an empty apartment, mourn and weep.

But Optimus wasn’t too sure about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which, Megatron liked Starwar movies, Optimus developed unwanted feelings, and Soundwave's just a sleeping boombox.


	8. On a chessboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Beta. Bad English.  
> Not enough sleep. Same always.

The next morning Soundwave woke up to a realisation that today was the day that he stopped being the visible third wheel. The whole room tasted of regret. Regret of confession.

“Your mission has been cancelled.” Megatron greeted him with an order in his own berthroom, “You’ve done well, soldier. Now you are dismissed.”

Where exactly was he dismissed to from his own house? He wondered.

To show his respect, Soundwave left for work from his own house earlier just to give Megatron some space. On his way to the Command Centre he tried to comm Optimus, he was unsurprisingly greeted by silence. He didn’t need to brush either of their mind to know what happened. He knew them well enough and better than anyone had assumed, and even better now after a few decacycles of bizarre encounters.

Then Megatron commed him to let him know he wasn’t coming to the command centre today so as the TIC, he was on his own. For a moment, Soundwave felt lost. He couldn’t quite figure out why.

When he finally reached the Decepticon Command Centre whose gate was the ever-so-familiar icon that was once designed based on his own face, it finally struck him hard, that war was truly over, the peace he stared upon was real, built and maintained and appreciated by Optimus and Megatron, who were both unwilling to disturb the silence.

He needed a plan.

Then he had one. Little did he know how much he was to pay for this.

First he hacked into the Council’s intranet and left Optimus a fake note from Swerve: a cheerful apology along with a coupon. He even drew an exceedingly childish “ticket of re-entry” doodle, tiny bots welcoming the banished Prime back to party.

Then he hacked Starscream’s comm line to send Megatron a message about a private meeting after work. It was easier than the other job since all decepticons have their communications equipment upgraded and guarded by Soundwave himself. It’s like stealing from your own house. Despite the lack of challenge, he had great fun faking Starscream’s sassy tone. Mechs thought he wasn’t capable of mocking Starscream. Primus weren’t they dumb.

Eventually he sent Swerve a request of booking the bar’s after hours for a private event, it was pretty easy too since it was right there in the bar’s advertising. The cheerful bar owner’s curiosity could be tasted from the other side of the comm line. But he lived long enough to see the end of the war, he surely knew how to live longer after that.

Soundwave, however, was a little disappointed that he didn’t have the guts to ask. The whole scheming thing made him miss his Rumble and Frenzy.

If only they were here.

He shook the thought away and began to take his responsibility as today’s highest rank commander in the Command Centre. His fellow decepticons filled the base with pinkish coloured curiosity. It tasted sharp and pointy on his glossa. Briefly, he wondered what it would feel like if he declared himself as the new leader of the decepticons just for fun. As a telepath who didn’t even need to be pleased to feel pleased, one would wonder why he rarely ever tasted pleasure.

All sentient beings deserve freedom. And all sentient beings would prefer shooting their rage to a random crowd，but always keeping the true happiness with only their beloved.

Soundwave: no one’s beloved one.

 

As far as the plan went, it went well.

One would assume that after millions of years of back-stabbing Megatron would never even glance at something that remotely resembled a private invitation from Starscream. They had no idea. However big Starscream’s ego became, Megatron’s would always be a hundred times bigger. Like pit he would allow Starscream to taste victory, he would always turn the table on his dear SIC. Besides, today he really need to let out some steam and chill. So why not?

He did not, however, expect to walk to a bar completely empty. In all directions he stared, he saw no customer. Not even a bartender. What game was Starscream playing this time? Wondering, he walked to a seat by the bar table, the place he sat and got drunk with Optimus drinking Soundwave’s house specials.

Not feeling quite like himself, he commed Starscream to demand an answer, no one answered. Apparently his SIC’s comm was jammed by messages, not exactly a rare situation for the socially busy seeker. Little did he know Starscream was desperately trying to fix his own comm at the very moment. Someone had the gut to send him a music virus. His comm kept internally spitting hard bass rock to his system.

Unaware of whatever hardness his innocent SIC was experiencing, Megatron started exploring his surroundings. Whoever organised the evacuation of the bar must have known exactly what, or who was coming, for there was a cozy collection of high grade, engex, metal ingredients, rusty snacks and pre-mixed drinks right behind the bar within his reach. He took one cube and examined it with caution. The sinful pink glowed in dim light.

A jingle of the door bell sent a gentle wave into the filled cube. Megatron turned around with his official warlord face to finally face his SIC, only to be greeted by a very confused Optimus Prime.

“Why are you here.” Megatron was even more confused, “Where is Starscream.”

“Why are you here?” The Prime returned his question, “And what about Starscream?”

Then he looked around the quiet bar.

“What happened to this bar.”

Suddenly confirmed the editable nature of the offered food and drinks, Megatron ignored the question and drank up whatever was in the cube he was holding. He then raised the empty cube in Optimus’ direction.

“Well apparently this bar is still the same bar.” He said. “With drinks and all that scheming. Only less customers.”

Optimus seemed less than relieved at his response. Lost for words, he projected his received “coupon” and tried to scan it at the counter. To his surprise, it did work.

“Guess there still is discount tonight.” He quietly commented.

“Well,” Megatron was already using his second drink, “a toast for that.”

It was the closest thing to an invitation he could manage, yet still with one end loose. In the meantime, Optimus found a chessboard hidden beneath the snack packs.

“Did you know Soundwave was good at this.” He asked. “Do you want to give it a try?”

“Since we have all night, why not.” Megatron put down his drink. “Bring it on.” 

For a few joors into that night, they chatted over a chessboard, a few drinks sitting aside.

“Do you think it was Starscream’s idea?” Optimus asked while the other one was considering his next move.

“It’s likely.” The warlord strategist simply replied, reaching one servo to move his pawn, “Though if so, I don’t think it’s his own idea.”

“Is that so?” Optimus made his own move, casually considering the possibilities. “I heard there is quite a betting pool behind us.”

“Don’t get yourself flattered.” Megatron merely took a sip in his drink before making next move on the chessboard, “My sorry SIC might have bet on something stupid again. It’s my duty to make sure he never gets his shanix back.”

“I see you have specifically split opinions toward your two lieutenants who you keep closest to yourself.”

“Unlike you, I don’t judge until mechs judge themselves for me.” Megatron placed his next piece, “And you just got your king cornered. Perhaps I should go easy on you to make this last.”

“Bring your worst and I’ll take it.” The Prime wasn’t discouraged. “I’m merely distracted from my king’s well being for now. He’ll live.” 

“Distracted by what.” 

“When you said last night,” Optimus raised his optics, “that ‘that’ is what you like about me. What do you mean by ‘that’.”

“That you’re always standing tall where you should cower, but cower where you don’t really need to.” Megatron explained bitterly. “I always appreciate a challenge.”

“Did you send Soundwave to play with your challenge?”

“You might have forgotten,” Megatron pointed to the bar table beneath their resting servos, “you invited Soundwave yourself, not too long ago, right here.”

“You seemed very displeased when I delayed my invitation.” Optimus questioned.

“Of course, no one gets to play my lieutenants.” Megatron simply stated.

Optimus paused a long time after that, eventually, raised his servo to grab his King, marching him a bold step on the chessboard.

“Then I might say Soundwave loves you deeper than you think.”

Megatron snorted awkwardly but did not argue.

“He’s deeper on everything than you think.” He said, “You will see.”

 Optimus felt obliged to nod to the comment even if he wasn’t sure if he was really to see it some day. Then he made his next move on chessboard, he was one step to checkmate, now Megatron was the one being distracted.

Yet he paused his digit, frowned, and raised his helm.

“Do you think,” he tried to gather his words, “it could be Soundwave who schemed this?”

Megatron paused with him, apparently considering the possibility before coming to conclusion.

“I think,” he eventually agreed, “it’s very likely.”

“I have a plan.” Said Optimus, dropping his checkmate to the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been caught in a few unfortunate incidents in my real life so now I'm not updating as often as before.
> 
> Anyway, there are other ways to create and experience fun other than performing inappropriate espionage, scheming in the dark and pulling pranks then framing someone else to take the blame. So in the next chapter, Soundwave is about to learn his lesson the hard way. Through punishment! XD  
> Please let me know what you think!


	9. On a chair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: No beta, bad English. The author clearly did not get enough sleep.
> 
> Extra warning of the chapter: forced drinking  
> I'm sorry.

Soundwave was taking a drive uptown that night when he received the call. In his rarely-seen vehicle mode he drove slowly past the damaged, quiet roads around Iacon which, in his early war days, he had marked from every corner to every sewer with fierce effort and shed energon. Never had he imagined he would be quietly driving along these roads alone one day, with his mind dipped in the guilty pleasure of getting away of a prank played on both Autobot and Dcepticon’s leaders.

He was already on the other side of Iacon when Megatron commed him with a video message. It showed a brief glimpse to the wide shoulders and broad chasis of a clingy Prime coming right into the camera, smashing it in the way, and the hiss of Megatron in the background noise.

“Come and give me a hand. He’s doing it again. “

Megatron left him a text message as if he was too breathless to speak, probably true due to the extra external pressure on his chasis that was called a Prime-ly hug.

Soundwave hesitated at the message, considering the possibility of Megatron figuring out it was him behind their arranged encounter. But even if Megatron somehow managed to contact Starscream, the seeker would die(and happily take Soundwave’s blame along) before admitting he was infected by a ridiculous hard-rock-playing virus. However, either way he did not expect Optimus to get drunk without his help this fast. He had assumed his discipling protocols would be stronger than this.

Before he could shake away his own thought, there came in another message. This time it was from the troublesome Prime himself.

“Ratchet,” the Prime began incoherently but still managed to sound deadly serious, “can you please leave me a self check-in form for a one-berth medic bay, one night appointment at your clinic’s door tonight?”

The call was snapped shut by something that sounded like Megatron’s plating just cracked.

Now feeling more worried than anything else, Soundwave transformed and headed in the bar’s direction without a second thought.

He hit the bar only 3 breems later. While he prepared for the worst, what he saw inside the bar was far from the chaotic train wreck he had imagined. In fact, everything was perfectly peaceful. No cracked cubes, no broken chairs, no ripped-up plating on the floor and definitely no dead leader of either faction. Megatron and Optimus were busy playing some board game on the bar table and apparently sharing a same pack of snacks. The clean and tidy state of their surroundings suggested no one misbehaved in the slightest. Things were lovely as far as the scene could tell. However, something smelled sour in Soundwave’s hypersensitive telepathic channel. A black fog of “trap” circled the bar and the dim light spat silver sparks of betrayal.

His processor screamed warnings.

Soundwave almost immediately turned around and ran before a firm servo grabbed him by the waist, he raised his helm to meet the red optics of Megatron. If Megatron was angry, he didn’t show. But a touch was enough for a telepath to tell all the secrets: the truth of his own secret had been spilt.

They knew. And there was no other way to end the night for Soundwave except for accepting his fate and punishment at the hands of the two most feared mechanical beings in the whole universe.

Gently but also firmly, he was guided and sat into a chair next to their table by Megatron’s strong servos. Now he could see what game Optimus was working on there. It’s a hand-made monopoly that looked like it was created just a moment ago. Instead of silly plot and twists, what was written in those game board blocks beneath their shiny metal dice looked more like a drinking game instruction. It looked innocent enough at a bar, if only they were not the only customers here.

So, there is this thing about telepaths that others never truly understood. When you can read all the minds within a certain physical range of yourself, life becomes full of spoilers. There’s no such thing as surprise or revelation. You might not be able to predict things like a psychic fortuneteller but you still won’t be caught completely off-guard by anything either. You’ll always see it coming. Long story short, telepathy makes interrogations almost impossible on Soundwave. The horror of unknowing will not have its way around someone like this, unless you invent some automatic self-operating torture machine with remote control and video feeds, in which case Soundwave wouldn’t be able to read his torturer’s mind as long as they sit far enough from him. And to be honest with everyone, the Soundwave’s physical range we are talking about here, is actually quite some distance, that building a remote control system able to transmit and receive signal covering such a distance would be challenging.

So Optimus was undoubtedly the genius torturer to invent his unique method of monopoly, for even the torturer himself couldn’t control a dice. And there are so many options written on the board, ready to be carried out on its poor victim Soundwave.

He swallowed hard behind the mask when the Prime rolled the dice first and it landed with a “3”.

“My turn first.” Optimus gladly moved his chip, a blue piece of metal that reminded Soundwave of the bunch of flowers he brought to Megatron.

“Finish a cube in 3 kliks.” Megatron read aloud.

Smiling a bit, Optimus picked a drink from behind the bar table and offered it to Soundwave.

“Allow me to offer a treat,” he said, “if not for you, Soundwave, I would have never learnt these brilliant earthly games.”

Regretting deeply, Soundwave took the cube and retracted his mask. He forced it down his throat as fast as possible. Megatron chanted the time limited on the other side of the table in the meantime and was pleased when the task was accomplished.

“Well done soldier.” He complimented. “Always so eager to please.”

Soundwave could only nod before reclosing his mask. It was just the beginning, better save some energy.

“My turn then.” Megatron took his dice. When it landed with a “1”, he moved his silver chip.

“Three cubes of engex challenge.” Optimus announced cheerfully.

Then he had no difficulty finding 3 cubes of drinks from the collection. Accepting those, however, without hesitation, Megatron pushed those in Soundwave’s direction.

“I already had quite a few drinks tonight, but this new game of our Prime’s is quite charming. I’d like to continue playing in a sober state.” He said, “Help me out of my dilemma, will you?”

To which Soundwave definitely could not say no, either. He drank his lord’s drinks, all three of them with a choking speed. One round into their game he was already feeling dizzy. From what he could read from them both, getting him wasted was definitely their top priority.

Optimus’ next move landed on a “mix your own drink and offer it to your partner”, for which Optimus was quite excited about. He hurried to the bartenders’ deck like a curious youngling and soon later returned with something purple and bubbling. Unsurprisingly, he offered it to Soundwave, who didn’t even try to taste it when pouring it down his throat, but lied when Optimus asked for review.

In their first round Megatron dropped three “1 point” in a row that almost got his TIC suspicious. Is his lord doing this on purpose just for some extra torture time? He drank another “house special” from Megatron then 2 “house more special”s that followed.

Eventually Megatron hit something that didn’t involve drinking. It said “take off your mask”.

“The quest was definitely made for you.” Megatron commented casually. “No one else is wearing a mask in this room. I got tired watching you switch it on and off for drinks.”

Soundwave obliged quietly.

“Your chip is left far behind.” Optimus took the dice, “I think I’m winning.”

“Beware of the reset block.” Megatron smirked. “You might just hit it.”

And he did, much to Soundwave’s dismay. Now both leaders were set aback on the line.

“Alright, my turn.” Megatron delightfully took the dice. Then his silver chip hit something even weirder.

“Turn on your favourite song.” He read.

Soundwave didn’t need to be told to start playing Optimus’ favourite bar music from speakers immediately. For which, however, Optmus was actually quite displeased.

“Is that your favourite?” He questioned.

Without hesitation Soundwave switched to a fast-paced cybertronian rock song that Megatron favoured from before the war, which caused the Prime to frown even deeper.

“Leave him be.” Megatron interrupted. Then they were back at the game again.

They played the full game twice. Some where along the way, the leaders stopped bothering to find an excuse to make Soundwave take their games each time. Megatron won the first game then Optimus won the second, so technically no one won. They started a third game jus to get even.

By then Soundwave already had 34 cubes of pure high grade and 11 cubes of indescribable cocktails. His tank was full and beeping internal warnings. He was using too much effort to control the expression on his now maskless bare face that he didn’t even bother to click them close.

When Megatron struck the “3 drinks challenge” again, Soundwave almost rose from his seat. He was slowly pinned down by the same strong servo that guided him into this seat. Megatron had a strong hold that can be either reassuring or intimidating when he chose to. Sincerely scared, Soundwave forcefully glued his entire frame back to his seat so hard that he almost looked like he was bound by invisible chains.

He took those 3 cubes one by one as Megatron offered to him and drank them up. He was certainly drunk as pit by this point, no faked incoherence, no pretended talking nonsense, he was as wasted as he could be. But he had no way of showing it for he wasn’t allowed to stand up, to react, or even to speak. The rumbling in his spark chamber was getting unbearably loud. He could barely contain it. The situation was getting wild for him yet neither of his torturers realised. They would both make terrible, terrible interrogators, noted Soundwave bitterly, even usually pretending to be otherwise, a true interrogator would always glue his attention to his prisoner’s well being like his life depends on it. But look at these two, they don’t even care.

Then it was Optimus’ turn to hit something weird.

“Feed your partner a drink of your choice.”

He examined the now considerably smaller collection of drinks in the tray carefully, then took a small cube of copper flavoured high grade mix, the dark blue colour was calming and cold. Caught in his now wasted-gone-wild thoughts, Soundwave was at first startled by the chilling touch of the cube’s edge on his lips, but soon assessed the situation then obediently opened his mouth to let Optimus feed the drink to him. It was one of those sweet mix that he told Optimus he liked, the servo of the Prime kept the flow steady and slow. It was supposed to be an act of intimacy, yet given the situation, it was anything but that.

Something sank deeper and deeper in his spark. It twisted, squirmed, whispered and echoed in his mind but could never speak. From there every drink offered to him was directly fed to him from either mech’s servos. Megatron was slightly less patiently than Optimus but soon Soundwave couldn’t tell the difference. He was barely recognizing his surroundings. Then someone hit something miraculous again and took off his visor. Golden optics stared at the table in from of his very own overcharging frame with plain numbness. Optimus was frankly surprised at those, almost raised his servo to touch.

“They are beautiful.” He said, “Why do you hide those?”

Too drunk to answer anything, Soundwave only nodded in agreement, not even sure what he just agreed to.

“I think he’s already out of it.” Optimus frowned at Megatron, “Maybe it’s about time we stop.”

Megatron sighingly turned his optics from his now completely hammered TIC, and stared down at their almost-finished game board.

“One last move then.” He said.

Alrady wrapping up their last match, Optimus nodded in agreement.

Then apparently, Megatron won their last game by hitting the “3 drinks challenge”.

“We won.” The ex-warlord declared happily to his hardly sober TIC, as if they were on the same side this whole time, decepticons against autobot.

Feeling a little bit sour about the situation, Optimus reminded him of the rule.

“Doesn’t count unless Soundwave drinks it.”

“Will you?” Megatron asked, holding his TIC with one hand.

Soundwave nodded quietly at this question just like he did to any other requests made to him tonight. Neither mech was aware of the fact that he was more answering to the servo on the back of his neck than anything else.

Happy to perform the final show of the night, the grey gunformer gracefully wrapped his digits around the full cube, then used the other servo to reach for Soundwave’s chin. Gentlely and firmly, those digits held him to make sure he swallow properly without hurting his throat or spilling a drop. One down two to go.

When the second cube touched his lip Soundwave was suddenly struck by what situation he was in. Like he never really thought it trough today, tonight, or any night before, what exactly was he being punished for. He pulled a prank, yes, but with good intentions. He arranged two old fools to meet so that they can talk. They should talk and have a good time to have a better time so that they can really talk and really have a good time some day, one day, eventually, for peace, for Cybertron, for themselves, in the future, but not too far.

He was full of good intentions.

And does it count as infidelity when you are dating a mech then played board games with another one who apparently just confessed he had feelings for you? Does it count as power harassment when you are holding your lieutenant’s chin and pour high grade down his throat without his consent when you definitely know for sure he loves you deeply as a friend and family?

How’s that working? How’s any of this working?

Deep down his throat, some motor started malfunctioning. He choked a little on the drink right before it was finished. Then the third one was offered to his lips.

The rumbling echo in his spark chamber finally spoke with the help of enough high grade. It spoke softly of how it felt hurt, humiliated, and wronged. See Starscream got away with multiple serious betrayals, and Skywarp got away with pranks all the time, all other decepticons got away with continuously failing their lord and he pulled one prank, This is where he ends up? Yet the burning liquid still pours down his throat.

The malfunctioning caliper down his throat vibrated violently. He choked and coughed through his vents. He finally tried to get away from the firm grip on his chin that he ended up spilling energon all over himself. When the cube that was torturing him finally left his face he felt coolant dripping down his cheek burning even hotter than high grade in his tank. When he came to the slow realisation not only was he not wearing his mask, even his visor was taken from him a long time ago, he couldn’t stop a sob to escape his vocalizer. He wept softly sitting in his chair of a prison still too scared to move. Dared not to even raise his own servo to wipe the coolant on his face, or simply forgot that was an option.

Startled by his sudden out-burst, Megatron hurried to wipe his tears for him. He put down the half empty cube on the table as fast as he could, and cupped Soundwave’s cheeks with his hands.

“No more drinks, alright?” He soothed, “No more game or tricks. ”

Behind him, Optimus, who seemed more uneased and shocked by the scene than Megatron ever was, nodded fast reassuringly. Soundwave let out a sobbing hiss, the purged all over Megatron.

To Optimus’ surprise, Megatron wasn’t even slightly bothered. In fact, the decepticon leader who he knew for ages as the personification of Rage simply turned to ask him to call Ratchet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment.


	10. Overdue promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta. Bad English. Not enough sleep.   
> As always.  
> I'm so depressed today. There is just not enough fluff in this world to save me.

That was how Optimus ended up sitting outside the medbay in Ratchet’s clinic in the middle of the night, feeling completely guilty and drained.

When Megatron finally walked out of the clinic’s washrack, he smelt of clean solvent and medical soap. Optimus raised his optics to meet Megatron’s, looking badly shaken with a hint of bitterness.

“I see you actually saw it coming.” He asked.

“He has always been a messy drunk.” Megatron admitted. “He just tends to, not remember it.”

“You should have mentioned.” said Optimus, “You should have stopped me from making that monopoly game board.”

“Since when it is my job to stop you.” Megatron questioned.

“Given the fact that I’ve tried to stop you every time you came up with something dangerous and stupid, with my life.” Optimus paused before continued, “It seems only fair that you return the favour.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” said Megatron.

“Why are you acting like this?” Optimus questioned, almost confused by the other, “He clearly means more than a lieutenant to you.”

“How I treat what’s mine,” said Megatron, “is none of your concern. Unless, you can get him for your own.”

Ratchet walked out of the door with a unnecessarily dangerous-looking wrench in his hand, he carefully examined Megatron before turning his optics to his old friend.

“Care to explain why someone as rational as Soundwave the decepticon, over-fueled himself to the point that I had to patch up multiple internal leaks?”

Before Optimus could say anything Megatron interrupted.

“You will have to ask himself about that.” He said.

“Right.” was all the medic replied, “Confidentiality, how could I forget.”

Then medic added sarcastically.

“My patient has been persistently demanding for his visor and mask. He’s not being particularly cooperative for medical operations at the moment. If either of you might have what he asked for, I suggest you go in immediately.” 

“Must be still at the bar.” Megatron nodded to the medic, then to the Prime, “I’ll go get those. The floor could use some cleaning before its owner returns. You go in and talk to him.”

“No.” Much to Ratchet’s surprise, Optimus objected immediately, “You go in and talk to him. Two autobots in the same room will stress him out. And he clearly needs you more than he’d like to see my face.”

“Talking about him right outside his room will stress him out, Prime.” Megatron didn’t even try to argue further, “How many times do I need to tell you that. Don’t assume anything, in front of a decepticon.”

With that he stormed out of the clinic like some bad weather.

When the door was violently shut, Ratchet gave Optimus a look that could make a youngling cry.

“I fixed that.” His now completely furious friend gestured to the medbay with one digit, then to his surroundings, “You, fix everything else.”

“Especially that.” He pointed his digit to the half-broken door before silently retreated to his office.

Left with no choice, Optimus walked into the medbay that contained his former date. Soundwave was awake, looking miraculously sober despite how deadly hammered he used to be just a breem ago. Ratchet must have drained his tank.

The blue decepticon tilted his chin in his direction that was even quieter than usual. His movement was slow, indicating he probably was not as sober as he looked like.

“So,” the quiet one began, “what was the rule.”

It took Optimus a while to understand he was asking about the actual winning rule of their monopoly-ish game.

“Is it really the first thing you’d like to know?” He asked carefully.

“I hate nothing more than not knowing.” The communications specialist replied simply. He sounds tired. “Please. It’s bugging me all night.”

Optimus sighed and confessed.

“The one who gets you to drink more before completing one round is the winner.”

To that, Soundwave only nodded to acknowledge. With no sign of anger, he stated himself with clear yet tired voice.

“You filled the room with guilt.” He said, “It’s the bitterest thing I tasted tonight. If there’s anything I can do to stop it, I will.”

“Don’t.” Optimus only shook his helm, “Do not forgive me just yet. I deserve this.”

“Will I regret it later?”

“No.” Optimus dimmed his optics then lit them again, “But I was the one who proposed the game. Not him.”

“Hardly my point.” Soundwave only replied quietly, almost halfway asleep.

“You don’t look like you need someone to calm you down.” Optimus tried, “So I see Ratchet was exaggerating.”

“About his anger, yes.” Said Soundwave, “He wasn’t even half as angry as he put on his face. I scared him off by pointing it out.”

“He’s not?” This time it was Optimus’ turn to feel curious, “What is he then.”

“Guilty, nervous, worried, embarrassed.” Soundwave answered, “Just like you are. But a hundred times as worried with less guilt, about you, not me.”

Optimus did not know how to answer that. So he didn’t.

“I can hear your thinking.”But Soundwave pointed it out for him, “It’s ok, you can ask.”

So he did. “What about Megatron. How’s he feeling about.” Then he added, “You don’t need to answer this question if you don’t want to.”

“Guilty as pit.” yet Soundwave confessed without doubt, “But unlike you, he plans to never apologise, thinking in this way he will scare me away. He won’t though.”

That only confirmed what’s been bubbling in his throat all this time. Optimus stiffened at that, then stepped closer, then paused as if he found himself doing something too offending. Eventually he stopped at where he was.

“That explains a lot.” He lowered his voice to hide his sorrow, “How he let you into this mess so willingly yet stormed out the way just like that.”

Soundwave blinked at him, his golden optics were quite a sight.

 “Do you mean the drinking games tonight.” He asked softly, “Or all the dates he let me have with you.”

“You’ve got me here.” Optimus chuckled painfully,“I honestly don’t know, probably both. And see I’ve failed both, he’s probably very disappointed at me right now.”

Soundwave paused at him, “You enjoy spending time with him.”

“I enjoyed spending time with you.” Optimus tried to correct him.

“That’s different.” Soundwave corrected him instead, “When you are with me, you feel relaxed. But when he shows up, your spark speaks ‘hopeful’.”

 “So you try to hook me up with him.” Optimus questioned, “I see I’ve been a terrible date, but you are quite strange yourself. Do you even enjoy my company.”

“I’ve been a good spy.” Soundwave looked even tireder now, “But no one needs a spy now.” He paused, his digits tightened and his limbs curled up as if he was trying to defend himself from the surrounding air, “I’m not so sure about everything as people assumed.”

“So I am really full of presumptions.” said Optimus, defeated.

“Sometimes.” The telepath answered. “But not always on the wrong side.”

Optimus smiled sadly at the other’s suggestion. “I could use an example.”

“You assumed I would enjoying being touched, since I rarely get it.” The blue tapedeck offered quietly, almost as whispering a secret, “And you made me a promise that you didn’t yet fulfil. You assumed it would be saved for another day.”

“Not exactly a day like this that I assumed.” Optimus admitted looking down at the floor, “And I promised my apartment, not my friend’s medbay.”

“I will scream if you don’t comply. ” Soundwave teased. “And the medic will get angry at you, for real this time. If people ask, you can say you were threatened.”

Optimus had to hide a chuckle by biting down his lip. “You don’t have to make everything look like your fault every time to ask for something nice for yourself. You can ask whatever you want whenever you want. Not every request is a negotiation. And I sincerely hope you are not saying all these nice things to me, just because you don’t want to smell my guilt.”

“Maybe.” Soundwave only smiled back at him. The lack of visor in his face and the soft flow of his golden optics made him more readable. The curve of his face seemed softer than ever, and his voice barely a whisper. He curled up himself to make room for the other. And Optimus obeyed. He walked up to the small berth and curled up next to him. The moment his hands touched the other’s chasis was almost ritualistic. The frame next to him burned with heat, then when they touched, it burned again with excitement, shyness and sorrow. Blue servo guided his to his optics that he tried to touch. Optimus’ digits swept the cheekbone below those soft-flowing eyes, they were met with something unexpected. It was a branded barcode, a signature of a past as someone else’ possession. His spark sank in pain and shame that he wasn’t even sure were from himself or Soundwave on the other side of their temporary link.

So this is why he hides them. A ghost from his past, buried in shame and drowned in sorrow.

“Promise me you won’t give up on him.” The telepath plead, “Don’t let him push you away. You can have me later. You can have me together.”

“You are just as precious as everyone else.” Optimus tried, sounding more desperate than he thought, but still not enough. “Even more so since you taught me so much what I thought I could not have. I’m not giving up on either of you. Not even if you ask.”

He tried to sound honest and sincere, but he didn’t have to. The telepath must have felt his determination directly from his the sound of his spark, for he pressed himself harder to the other mech’s chasis. They fell asleep pressed tightly together in the small berth. And that was what Megatron was greeted with when he returned with Soundwave’s mask and visor. His oldest friend and his oldest enemy were sleeping peacefully in a berth too small for their size, yet neither of them seemed to mind.

He should have yelled, snarled, growled at the scene, but what’s the point of pretending when no one else is looking.

He took a picture of them and saved it inside his memory bank. He was already so sure, he was about to lose both of them.

But at least, not this memory of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have already found out, English is not my first language. I'm actually quite experienced in writing in my first language, making a small profit out of writing sometimes and all that. And look at me now. I specialise in writing actions and crime stories....and just, look at what I'm doing now.  
> Just, ignore me. I'm so depressed today.


	11. Aftermaths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support from you guys! I'm putting myself back together.  
> Here is another chapter! Let's enjoy some more mindless fluff!

“You can’t be serious.” Ratchet, the ever-suffering victim of this legendary train wreck, was eventually forced to take the responsibility of his professional medical advice on his friend’s high grade intake and stress level.

“I’m serious.” said the Prime seriously, “And so is Soundwave.”

“I’m not your romance advisor.” He deadpanned.

“But you are of rich romance experience.” Optimus pointed out, “Back in the old days, you were considered as the most desired ambulance among middle caste Iaconians. Tales have been told about your”

“You speak one more word of my younger days I’ll end you with a doorknob.” Ratchet cut him out immediately, eyeing Soundwave.

“Actually he already knows more about your party days than I do.” Optimus explained, “I would never have guessed you had once”

“I’ll end you both right here and file two death certificates saying you two died in engaging pervert sexual activities.” 

That did it, Optimus went silent, and Soundwave never even spoke.

And Ratchet sighed heavily, “Let’s start again. How come after a long night of cuddling in a tiny berth in my medbay with your decepticon boombox boyfriend, you, Optimus Prime, came to the conclusion that you’d like to woo Megatron, the head of decepticons.”

“And you,” then he pointed to Soundwave, “are actually ok with this.”

Again, Soundwave showed no reaction to what he said, and Optimus spoke for him instead.

“Megatron confessed about,” he paused as if searching for the right word that won’t provoke his old friend even more, ”his unwanted feelings toward me. And after his confession I’ve found myself, thinking about it, a lot, then I realised I’ve been considering the possibility from a long time ago. ”

“Took you long enough.” The medic spat. “Who the pit actually think it’s a good idea to bring flowers to his 4 million years enemy instead of an intended date? I was right to give you a processor check when you were drunk and wasted.”

“Thanks.” Optimus deadpanned.

“You are welcome. And go on.”

“So,” Optimus began again, feeling more relaxed this time, “Soundwave with his unique skills and abilities, figured out our mutual feelings long before we did and sees the whole thing as an opportunity to actually get us together. But unfortunately he was caught in this...thing himself, put into this awkward position by Megatron himself because Megatron seems to be under the expression that we will make a good couple. And I was clueless.”

“Naturally.” Ratchet commented.

“Naturally,” Optimus agreed, “But, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Soundwave and I really make a great couple. We get along well. I feel relaxed when I’m with him and we share common interest in many things. Such as, Megatron.”

“That is,” Ratchet shook his helm in disagreement, “too kinky for me to understand. And don’t get me wrong, I know much more about threesome than you ever will. I won’t judge you about how many meches you’d like to get into your berth as long as it’s consensual, but to be honest with you I find it hard to believe that you really think it will work with Megatron. Megatron does not share.”

“Megatron does not see Soundwave as someone else.” Optimus protested, “He sees Soundwave as his own possession, a possession he’d agree to give away for his own good. This can’t continue if their friendship is to remain. That is another problem we’d like to work on.”

“You have too many problems to solve in this relationship.” Ratchet pointed out for him, “It’s too unproductive. What do you expect to happen when you successfully seduced Megatron into your pack? Live happily ever after? And before that, what are you two now?”

“We are still dating.” Optimus replied, “And I can assure you we both want Megatron, which is a very difficult task. We would like to use your advice since you are a very reliable source of information regarding this kind of matter.”

“OK, even if I was, which, was a considerably long time ago and my very old memory is quickly failing me, I have never, ever, propositioned to someone like Megatron, a cruel, violent, restless, grumpy old mech with a temper the size of Unicron and an ego delicate like scrap.”

Optimus blinked at him. “I think you just reminded me that.”

“What.”

“Fact: Ratchet and lord megatron share a lot things in common.” Soundwave said, “Query: what is the most efficient way to seduce Ratchet?”

“No.” Ratchet firmly protested.

But Soundwave turned to Optimus almost immediately, “Question: has been answered telepathically. Answer: will be delivered to Optimus later to avoid awkwardness.”

“Get out of my medbay and never come back.” said Ratchet, “Please.” He added.

 

Eventually Ratchet still let Soundwave stay for medical reasons. The tapedeck mech was not discharged from the medbay yet, another reason to keep Optimus guilty and nervous. On the other servo, however, Optimus could hardly remember the last time his friend got emotionally banged up so badly.

“Please tell me,” the ambulance-former asked painfully, standing at his still broken door, “how come the old rusty bucket did not win the war with that massive destruction machine inside?”

“He hardly carried out any direct damage during the war.”

“My traumatized processor begs to differ.” The medic shook his helm, but added, “I’m glad you’ve finally found someone to cuddle though. After eons, I will finally have a party free of bears.”

“Soundwave will get me an invitation before you start writing one.”

“Good point.” The medic sighed heavily, “But hear me out, don’t go all self-sacrificing on your romantic relationships too. They are not your responsibilities.”

“I know.” He promised.

Later on his way to the Council Hall, he was greeted by Soundwave by a comm. The telepath seemed to have decided now it wouldn’t be so embarrassing to talk about Ratchet’s sexual fantasies.

“He says he will sometimes enjoy a pushy and persistent lover with loving nature and an attitude bigger than his.” Soundwave explained, “Both in daily life and in his berth.”

“Sometimes I’m glad I have limited speed as a truck, not a speedster.” Optimus commented from the other side of the link, “I can hit someone really hard considering all the information I receive when I drive.”

“Starscream fell from sky once when Megatron yelled at him really loud through his comm.” Soundwave chuckled, “Skywarp teleports himself to random places when he’s startled.”

“What about you?”

“I turn into a cassette player.” Soundwave admitted. “How do you plan to get pushy on Lord Megatron?”

“I have something specific in mind.” Optimus replied casually. “Something I can go particularly persistent about right now.”

Suddenly fell to silence, Soundwave seemed to have had his guess ready whether by mind-reading or prediction.

“I’m not sure if that is a good idea.” He returned to his usual quietness.

“Megatron will apologise to you. I’ll make sure I squeeze it out of him.” Optimus simply stated as a matter of fact, “And you don’t give in until I say so. Remember you asked me for this so I will have it only my way. If anyone asks, you can say you were threatened.”

On the other side of the link, curled up in his medbay berth, though still worried about what’s to come, Soundwave smiled under his mask.

“As you command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Soundwave is happy, Megatron is clueless about what's to come, and Optimus is on a mission.  
> And Ratchet is traumatized by the horror of telepathy.  
> Please let me know what you think!


	12. Long way to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta. Bad English. Not enough sleep.  
> Fluff with out plot.

Megatron, on the other servo, was not in the slightest bothered by whatever was going on out side his base. Mechs plotting behind his back, for him, is just another average day. He had no doubt Optimus was furious at this point, to say the least, Soundwave’s absence in the command centre was saying a lot.

The base was impossibly quiet in Soundwave’s absence. That was a rather bizarre understatement since the mech barely ever spoke one full sentence in a decacycle.

The silence he experienced while standing next to Soundwave had always been a welcoming fold of calmness, with the forever warm field of devotion and a low buzzing background music of friendly rumble, while without Soundwave, it was just plain silence. One would imagine the presence of a quiet mech wouldn’t matter all that much when he was gone. They’d be surprised to see the panic among these decepticons.

After war the base mainly served as a Cybertronian defense system that, while being mostly independently functional on its own, still answered to the Council on regular basis. It was not the most brilliant idea he and Optimus reached agreement on but the decepticons were mostly warframes who wouldn’t happily adapt into a civilian system right after a war. So they stay in their semi-military facility on the other end of Iacon but leave the entire law enforcement system to the autobots. Weapon fairly distributed and mechs happily separated, sounds like a perfect plan that definitely won’t last for long without causing another class-war. This problem was on top of both his and Optimus’ to-do list ever since the moment they agreed on it.

Unsurprisingly some decepticons showed amazing adapting skills than others. Starscream, always the dramatic one, gladly took the role to join the said council to work between two systems while Soundwave remained at the base to serve beside Megatron. Some joked Starscream was practically the communications officer now and Soundwave the real second in command. To some extent, this didn’t wait for the war to end to become the truth.

What Megatron did not understand was, why Sounwave did not fall into the adaptive group of decepticons. The most loyal, devoted, domestic family mech of a decepticon, had his hardest time walking among the civilians when they marched into peace. Soundwave was hiding it like a deadly secret but he could tell by reading his frame that he didn’t know what to do with this peace. And even more surprising, neither was Optimus Prime.

If a lifetime of warfare or espionage could freeze a spark to the extreme, these two mechs surely showed their colours against this common theory.

He, however, was exactly what people meant when they made it up.

Their people were reluctant to participate in their well-earned peace in fear of another war, they’d been living too long under the pressure of losing someone who you got attached to during the war. So they simply wouldn’t. And their people could not truly combine without forming bonds with each other. A cross-faction relationship among the high ranks would be both strategically and profoundly beneficial. Starscream wouldn’t hesitate to take his chance with Skyfire but everyone knew he was faction-fluid. And himself? Impossible. That leaves Soundwave as the perfect choice. The mech would even jump into an arranged marriage if he asked him to and play a wonderful spouse everyone ever dreamt of to the end of his days, any mech with the half-decent concept of family would fall so hard for him and they live happily ever after. Or at least that was what he thought would be like in a few vorns for Soundwave and Optimus.

The only problem? Soundwave was too attached to him. Maybe it was the problem from the beginning, but it didn’t matter anymore since he fixed it last night.

Content yet feeling at loss at the same time, Megatron arranged for a few exploring missions and some general shifts while considering who would be the best mech to become his secretary once Soundwave’s relationship with Optimus was established. His TIC could spare some family time from work by then. In longer term it would be a strategically beneficial as well.

He was especially confused when the gate guard ran all the way to his quarters just to inform him ther was an Optimus Prime holding a bunch of flowers outside.

 

Optimus had been standing outside impatiently for Megatron to come out for two breems by the time the silver mech finally showed up. Apparently in Soundwave’s absence the decepticon base had its problem of passing information to higher rank more efficiently.

“Care to explain what are you doing here at my door?” Megatron demanded.

“First I’d like to correct you the decepticon base is not your home, and your fellow decepticons not your belongings,” Optimus began with calm, “then I’d like you to hold these flowers. And no, they are not for you.”

Megatron flinched at his last sentence but acted curiously annoyed.

“Give me a reason to do such thing.”

“On Cybertron, we apologise when we hurt someone we care for.” Optimus explained even more calmly, as if he’d expected the other mech to misunderstand him at some point, “And usually with gifts and words. Here I brought you the gift, I suggest you bring you words carefully.”

Narrowing his optics, Megatron examined the perfect red flowers the Prime was offering.

“So this is about Soundwave.”

“Glad you catch up with me finally.”

“Then you already heard my answer.” said Megatron, “It is none of your business.”

“About that.” Optimus looked into those red optics with well-hidden smugness, ”I’d like to inform you the same. I don’t take it well when people hurt what is mine, either. And you did exactly that.”

He slammed the flowers to Megatron’s chest.

“Soundwave is not to return to your base until you apologise to him. Now take the flowers. You can find him at my place when you have your apology ready.”

 

“I didn’t say the ‘won’t return’ part.” Soundwave protested, “Or, the part about I’m to stay with you. I have my own place.”

“If he goes to your place to apologise, you will just nod and let him go before he finishes the first word of his speech.” Optimus explained.

The tapedeck went silent for a while, looking down at his pedes. They were standing at the door of his medbay. And Ratchet was pretending he didn’t care about their argument at all in the background with his fins all straightened up.

“OK,” Soundwave eventually agreed. “But, don’t let others see me. I’ll hide in your closet.”

“I’m afraid I’ll need a bigger closet.”

“Or a cupboard, a wardrobe.” The tapedeck added, “I’m small in my alt-mode. You can put me on your bedside table. I’ll ring when it’s morning. You can choose the song.”

Someone chuckled from behind, Ratchet hurried away without facing them.

“Or is it interface you desire?” Soundwave asked.

“You should stop speaking the darkest part of my mind for me.” Optimus sighed, “And pretend you proposed the dirty words. Did you always do this?”

Soundwave simply shrugged.

Eventually Optimus cleaned up a filing cabinet for him as a hiding place just in case. They agreed to sleep in the same berth during their arrangement. Neither of them had any idea how long it might take for Megatron to go berserk on this. Definitely not the first day. So they happily spent the first night cuddling without disturbance. It felt different when neither of them were under the influence of high grade. Touching Soundwave was like therapy, yet in a collected way. It took them a surprisingly long way, considering it was the plan they made on the very first night.

“You can touch as you like.” Soundwave offered. “I know you wondered about the buttons.”

Optimus curiously ran his digits along the transformation seams and the edge of his tape cover. When he pushed those buttons Soundwave shuddered with his digits but remained still. Every different spot of his frame worked different magic. He was like a unique musical instrument, spread ready to be played.

“You can touch too.” Optimus pledged.

But Soundwave didn’t. He locked his joints and held his servos above his helm. He wasn’t going to touch.

Then Optimus leaned down and touched those tightened blue digits. They were as gentle as his own. He locked their digits and fell asleep with Soundwave that way. For a long time in his life, he slept well enough to dream as Orion.

The next morning, a blue boombox rang him from recharge on his small table next to his berth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world needs more fluff.


	13. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I wrote the wrong name for Skyfire in the last chapter. I really should take more sleep.  
> We are finally getting a bit rated stuff in this chapter. Just a little bit.

Unsurprisingly they received no visit from Megatron the next day either. Ratchet confirmed he called in to check on Soundwave’s medical status and was informed of Soundwave’s discharge from medbay.

“He asked about his whereabouts. I did not say.” Ratchet commented, “He didn’t look angry. I’m a little concerned.”

And Soundwave was more than a bit concerned. When Optimus stopped him from returning to the decepticons, he mass-displaced himself into a mini cassette player the size of a human hand. He was barely visible in this mode for a Cybertronian Optimus’ size. The tapedeck surely wasn’t lying about his weird coping mechanism.

It successfully turned Optimus’ after hours and Soundwave’s unplanned vacation into a battle meeting, and Optimus’ berthroom the new command centre.

“OK maybe we need a bit more insight about Megatron’s interests as well.” Optimus had a datapad ready, “We already know the mech does not cope with threats well. He needs to be motivated.”

“I already taught you his favourite games, his favourite dance and how to play his favourite songs.” Soundwave wasn’t too impressed, “And you already watched his favourite film.”

“What are you, his private bride trainer?” Optimus had to hold back a sigh. “My worst guess was just confirmed.”

“Don’t deny yourself. You like his favourite games, songs and dances. And you liked his boring choice of a movie, too.” Soundwave pointed out, “You two share too many common interests. I was the one who got bored.”

“Once Megatron is here, the next thing we are gonna do is working on your stubborn devotion.” Optimus took a note, “Now tell me something I didn’t know about him that might be useful.”

Soundwave hesitated for a long while, “His, interface habit?”

Optimus raised his helm from the datapad he was reading curiously, “You’ve ever interfaced him?”

“A few times.” Soundwave admitted. “And it went, pretty much as everyone pictured.”

Optimus shook off his mental image, “I take it you two were never truly in a relationship.”

“No.” Soundwave confirmed. Sitting on the floor, he rested his chin on his knees as if thinking to himself, then raised his helm, “You are thinking too loud. Lord Megatron believes we are better off together, I believe you two are better off together. If you think he and I should be get together then none of us will go anywhere. This is never gonna end.”

Optimus reluctantly nodded in agreement before turning back to his datapad, making another mental note about the other mech’s telepathy in his mind. Then an idea suddenly struck him like lightening.

He turned around to directly face the telepath with hope written all over his faceplate and asked.

 “Can you show me?”

Soundwave hesitated for a long silent moment, long enough that Optimus almost took it as a no. Then he was suddenly struck by an enormous amount of information directly released into his mind. The vision of Soundwave unfolded before his eyes, through which he saw Megatron standing in the middle of the chaotic storm, his rage and frustration struck him with great force even from afar. The old Cybertron in its Golden Age that they both mourned and loathed spread under their pedes. While one should be horrified by what he was looking at, Optimus was tempted. He stood tall in the rumbling storm and walked closer. Through rage he saw hope and passion, attached to a sense determination that was almost self-destructive. To the end of everything he saw madness and greed, the mech he once knew as Magatronus looked in that particular direction with lust all over his now battle-scarred frame, yet when he saw those optics of his, they were burning fury. He saw Soundwave through the optics of Megatron. He saw Starscream, Shockwave and all the decepticons. Then he saw himself. The Optimus Prime glowed with pride when he appeared out of nowhere but landed right in Megatron’s way. Hatred and hope roared equally aloud like two fighting beasts, attacking each others’ neck with fangs and claws. Between the lust for war and the yearning for peace, he was torn apart, piece by piece, and reassembled into the exhausted ex-warlord he knew now.

And when he was finally too tired to hide, Optimus could finally see through the thick layer of chaos, into the what he was hiding below. The love he reserved for the future, picturing a thriving Cybertron and Optimus Prime. He turned around trying to find Megatron in his own vision but was suddenly struck by burning desire and sinful heat. Silver servos strayed down his chasis, playfully toying his window glass, then wandered to the sensitive wires around his waist. His joints made a cracking noise that was almost alarming. Yet he did not move.

And Soundwave whimpered.

Wait, Soundwave? He opened his eyes in surprise.

Then he remembered, he was inside Soundwave’s mind experiencing all of this. He saw Megatron through Soundwave’s eyes and felt Megatron’s feelings through Soundwave’s telepathy. He was experiencing Megatron’s lust through Soundwave’s body. Through their interface.

Those servos surely felt much stronger in Soundwave’s frame. Megatron pinned him down with fierce hunger as if he was trying to find the certainty he longed for in his most loyal’s submission. The tapedeck was a trembling mess under those rough digits yet remained as still as he could. Orders were whispered in his audials in hoarse voice, and he obeyed with every last piece of his remaining effort in a desperate hope of satisfying his lord’s hunger. He could not though. And he couldn’t even deceive himself as if he could. The downside of being a telepath. He couldn’t hold back his coming overload either, for his beloved leader was thrusting so hard inside him, for their pleasure was echoing so loud in their synchronizing field. The desire he desired for, the longing he longed for, was thrown at him all at once like a canon shot. He couldn’t tell their frames apart.

Neither could Optimus.

He came to himself realizing he was overloading with his spike deep down Soundwave’s throat. Transfluid dripped down to the floor from the edge of his mouth that was tightly wrapped around his flashing biolights. It was already too late to retreat, he came so hard that Soundwave had to back off halfway to cough some transfluid out of his vents.

They both took a few kliks to recover from what just happened.

“How did we...” He asked.

“You were overheating.” Soundwave explained, “I broke the link but it didn’t help. So I figured I should assist in a different way.”

“Thank you.” He said apologetically.

Soundwave stared at him in his usual quiet way.“That was basically my fault. Shouldn’t have pulled that part of memory on you.”

“No.” Optimus shook his helm but did not explain, “But maybe we should avoid more touching tonight. We are taking it too fast. This is not how I planned.”

Soundwave chuckled at that, but did not object.

“Do you think,” Optimus tried while still lying flat on his own floor, “maybe he just doesn’t know where I live. How does he usually find the information he needs?”

“He usually asks me.” Soundwave answered, “Maybe he really doesn’t know where you live.”

Optimus made a small uhm sound on the floor. The mess between his legs needed some cleaning, but before that, he’d like to lie down with Soundwave for a little bit longer. The thought of Megatron being as tired as he was right now but had no one else by his side hurt more than usual. He closed his eyes.

 

The next day Ratchet filed a joint medical bill to both Megatron and Optimus with the billing address of both parties underlined.

“You are welcome.” The medic said sarcastically.

When he came back from a days’ work, Optimus found Megatron lurking at his door.

“He’s inside isn’t he?” The ex-warlord began angrily, “He’s not answering his comm.”

“Maybe because you didn’t bring him flowers.” Optimus folded his arms around his chest. “I told him not to if you didn’t.”

“Are you holding him hostage?”

“You may find out for yourself once you bring in the flowers.” With that, Optimus opened his door and walked in.

Same time next day, he found Megatron sitting at his door with a bunch of flowers that looked like they’d been in a car accident. Not a single one mech who walked by him could resist a glance of pure curiosity.

“What happened to the flowers?” Optimus asked questioningly.

“Flowers languished.” Megatron looked at him as if he was just told Starscream adopted Ironhide. “Because they do.”

“I see your attitude surely didn’t.”

“Took you long enough to figure it out.” Megatron laughed bitterly, “Now where is he?”

Optimus however, wasn’t amused. “You should have bought a new one.”

“What, not gonna appreciate a miner’s clumsy hands?” Megatron teased. “Some of us are not from the romantic middle caste.” 

“No.” Optimus agreed, “But what you bring matches what you mean. I don’t believe those now dead flowers I brought to you earlier mean enough now.”

The next day Megatron showed up with fresh flowers. Red petals shone with the fluffy ribbon wrapped around them.

“Tell him this will come directly out of his payroll.” He deadpanned.

“Do you always extend your power play to your subordinates private life? That is highly unprofessional.” Optimus commented.

“My TIC has been absent from his vital job position and hiding in my opponent’s house.” Megatron wasn’t buying it at all, “You talk to me about being unprofessional?”

“Maybe if you didn’t force those cubes down his throat with one servo holding the back of his helm, you wouldn’t need to be here to begin with.”

“My memory seems to be telling me you were the one who suggested it.”

“Well you stormed out.” Optimus reasoned, “I stayed, apologised and earned his forgiveness.”

Megatron examined him carefully for a very long moment.

“Are you telling me that he does not forgive me?”

Optimus almost choked on the “No” that was about to jump out of his vocalizer. But he could not lie. Neither of them would believe it.

“Of course he did.” Megatron stated matter-of-factly, almost sounding sarcastic about himself, “He forgave me the moment I told him the game was over. It’s you that won’t forgive me.”

Then he slammed the red bouquet into the red truck-former’s hands.

“It’s for you. As you said, it represents an apology. I hope it means enough now.”

Then he left.

Optimus spent the night overthinking about whatever he meant by that. He hovered over the bouquet between breaks from his extra working time in his study. And when he looked at it for too long, he failed to hold his blush.

“I can’t believe him.” He repeated for the twentieth time, “How could he?”

Soundwave, sitting on his table in his root-mode however, seemed less upset today and consequently spending less time as an irresponsive cassette player.

“You are happy.” He said almost cheerfully, “He was happy too, last time you apologised to him with blue flowers.”

“I’m deeply disturbed.” Optimus protested.

“Another common point.” Soundwave commented.

They went silent for a while.

“I’m a bit jealous.” Soundwave eventually admitted. “He never even knocked the door. I would have opened it if he just knocked.”

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t.” said Optimus.

The next morning someone knocked at the door at sometime too early for anyone else to notice. Soundwave opened the door to find a small, blue music box placed on the floor. Graceful holoform danced to its tenderly flowing music. Silver crystals that decorated the inside walls of the blue box shone like stars in a peaceful night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megatron can strike right into someone's heart when he aims for it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really busy recently. I slept for like, 16 hours in total this week.  
> We're finally getting some decent Megop in this chapter.

Reluctant and frustrated, Optimus released Soundwave from his temporary prison to return to his daily work. It turned out things were not as disorderly as he believed would be. Being at home did not stop a mech like Soundwave from accessing his duties remotely. The decepticons were slightly curious about Soundwave’s short disappearance but Megatron passed it as a medical leave. And most autobots weren’t even aware of the farce from the beginning.

What the Autobots were aware of, was their leader’s ongoing affair with the decepticon leader.

Ultra Magnus expressed his concerns after one meeting.

“Prowl was slightly concerned. And to be honest with you so am I.” Being his usual stoic self, he was trying his best to sound casual, “Prowl talked to Ratchet first but Ratchet sent him off, which I take as a safe sign.”

“Medics know the best.” Optimus agreed as he was documenting his office archive, “I suppose that is good news to me too.”

“It surely is.” Ultra Magnus agreed, “But I do believe the ongoing rumours are generally unnerving.”

“I’d like to know what they are about.” Optimus wasn’t surprised, but was slightly amused.

“Rumours say you and Megatron are courting.”

To that Optimus dropped what he was working on for a few kliks, he blinked at the datapad in his servos three times before putting them where they belonged.

“It’s very romantically assumptious of our people.” He commented. “I don’t know if I should be surprised.”

“All civilizations across the universe share their thirst for drama during peace time.” Ultra Magnus commented neutrally.

“They surely do.” said Optimus slightly amused, “Are you here to inform me of the rumours, or for confirmation of the truth?”

Ultra Magnus was slightly taken aback by the question, he seemed hesitant, but eventually shook his helm.

“I trust the judgement of a medic.”

Later Optimus sent a comm call to Soundwave who was at the decepticon base.

“Remember to remind me of sending Ratchet a dozen Thank You cards.”

“Not your secretary.” Soundwave noted.

When returned from his silent comm call, Soundwave was directly greeted by Megatron’s silent stare.

“What does he want this time?” He asked bitterly.

Soundwave shifted in his seat, “Optimus: whiny.”

Megatron laughed at that particularly comment loudly. “I see your relationship is doing a few good things on you. Your humour is becoming overly pleasing.”

“Rumours: epic courtship between Lord Megatron and Optimus Prime.” Soundwave seemed to have decided to joke even more, “Versions: many.”

“And I suppose you’re not in any of these said versions of rumours about the non-existing affair between me and the Prime.” Megatron commented, “I can’t say I’m not impressed.”

“Information manipulation: Soundwave’s speciality.”

“It surely is,” Megatron agreed, but straightened his frame in a more intimidating way, “Yet I find it a curious case that you don’t find it bothering you, seeing that you and Optimus are actually courting.” He paused for a moment, “Or if you are not, I’ll be very disappointed at your seducing skills.”

“Mission: ceased.”

“Yes it is.” Megatron agreed. And just like that, he silently returned to his geometry map with the new pieces freshly sent in by the decepticons exploration teams.

However it was Soundwave who decided to push a bit further this time.

“Lord Megatron: still desires Optimus Prime.” He then added, “Optimus Prime: equally interested.”

“That’s disturbingly humorous of you today Soundwave.” said Megatron without raising his helm, “If that’s so, that would be his story to tell, not yours. By the way, Thundercracker has been assigned to become your secretary within next cycle.”

And Soundwave went silent as well.

 

“How come I’m assigned a secretary.” The tapedeck was uncharacteristically talkative tonight, “I’m the secretary. Everyone knows that.”

Optimus patted his helm. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“It’s your fault he doesn’t like me anymore. You walked in and asked me out and now he thinks I’ve been touched.” said Soundwave with his face pitifully buried on Optimus dining table, “Not that he ever liked me though.”

He then added in a smaller voice. “And your plan of being the persistent admirer consumed my reputation.”

And Optimus moved his gently stroking digits to his audials.

“I see you have no problem touching me now.” Soundwave muttered softly on the table.

Optimus paused his digits, “Am I causing you discomfort?”

“No.” Soundwave murmured, “Just, not everyone likes it after a while.”

“There are some fools in this world.” 

“Lord Megatron might be one of them.”

Optimus blinked at Soundwave’s unusual comment on his beloved Lord. “I’ve been wondering, have you ever try to tell him how you feel.”

“He’s my owner.” Soundwave admitted quietly, he raised his buried face from the table to peek at the Prime,“And you will be one too once you’ve joined him.”

Optimus suddenly went completely silent. But obviously not silent enough for a telepath, who quickly assured him.

“There might have been slave coding in this world, for unwilling obedience and default hatred,” Soundwave offered, “But no coding can force one to love.”

“I’m glad you kept the ability.” Optimus commented, “to still be able to love.”

“I worked hard on it.”Soundwave admitted, now looking down to the kitchen floor. “Will you tell him your feelings then? Since he directly demanded it from you.”

“I will.” Optimus agreed. “But first I need to pick the right time, to make the circumstances irresistible.”

“Of course.” Soundwave proposed.”Why do you think I let the rumours run.”

A slave or a spy, Soundwave was always sneaky as slag.

 

Swerve’s bar, it’s always Swerve’s bar.

Invitations for the party were distributed to mechs from both autobots and decepticons. Speedsters and seekers, jeeps and tanks, a random bunch of average Cybertronians who seemed to have nothing much in common except for their love for fun.

What they did not know, was they had one more thing in common: they all bet on the Megop ship in the pool.

And among all these mechs, Starscream the air commander himself, made the special call to invite Megatron to join the party.

“How did you manage to get Starscream to help?” Optimus was both amazed and finding it slightly disturbing.

“He bet on you instead of me and feels his status among decepticon rank has been threatened now that his trinemate is my private secretary.” Soundwave replied, “He’d love to see me dumped by both of you altogether.”

“Neither of us is dumping you anytime soon.” Corrected Optimus.

The silence on the other side of the comm continued for a suspiciously long moment before Soundwave replied dreamily.

“I’m having a few bottles of polish and wax delivered to your door. Can I buffer you? I haven’t buffered anyone for a while.”

And Optimus agreed.

The special party took place after they finished their joined project on Iacon sewers system’s repairs. It was a lengthy job that no one liked. Now that it’s over, both Optimus and Megatron were in a light mood.

Extra bonus the decepticons exploration team brought in maps of the long-deserted Kaon that morning. It put Megatron in his small sappy nostalgia for the day. Soundwave said the silver mech looked rather blue-ish from the morning. He was probably being very literal about that due to his complicated telepathic senses that no one else could really understand.

Optimus walked into the bar covered in polish. He glowed in a low key way that made him almost felt like Orian Pax again, the middle caste clerk from Iacon. Megatron gave him a neutral glance. Then they sat side by side like the old days.

“I was expecting Soundwave rather than you.” Megatron said. “I heard the Prime never party.”

“It’s not really a party tonight.” Optimus ordered his drink, “And Soundwave doesn’t seem to prefer more formal parties than casual get-together.”

“Typically,” Megatron agreed, “been a long time since he ever really attended fun activities without acting like being at a meeting. A shame no one knows what a good dance he is.”

“Truly a shame.” Optimus agreed. Then came their drinks.

They sat in silence for a while indulging their high grade. It was a strange scene to watch, even stranger to themselves because not too long ago neither of them would even imagine they’d sit together peacefully chatting over a cube of energon.

“It’s strange that we even have common topic to talk about now.” Optimus sighed. “Soundwave likes your present by the way.”

Megatron snorted. “Of course he does. I can’t find another mech who is as easy to please as him in this whole universe.” 

“Sometimes I wish you’re more like him.” Optimus admitted sarcastically.

“I’m a lot like him.” Megatron declared before sipping into his cube, “Not the way you would appreciate though.”

Seeing it as a dangerous sign Optimus decided to step away. “I do fathom you certainly won’t dance like him.”

“No one can dance like him.” Megatron wasn’t offended.

“Do you dance at all?” Optimus asked.

“Of course.” Now Megatron was slightly offended, “Who do you think he danced with all these years?”

“I’m finding it hard to believe.” said Optimus.

Megatron narrowed his optics, behind Optimus, the dance floor shone with music. “Goading, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Optimus put down his drink, “I only learned dancing from Soundwave very recently.”

“Now wouldn’t that be a waste of opportunity if I don’t get to make fun of your dancing skills tonight.” Megatron laughed. “OK, you can have one dance.”

They joined the small dancing crowd together. Mechs were cheering from behind. Optimus was slightly motivated and Megatron wasn’t even slightly bothered. Then they began to dance.

To his surprise, Megatron was, despite his frame type and size, a graceful dancer. His swift and elegant moves reminds Optimus of the fierce gladiator he once was. And Optimus danced shyly, reserved, like the mech he used to be, with clumsy moves and awkward steps. Megatron was amused. He slowed down with Optimus. It helped a little. But when the song reached its top pitch, Optimus lost his pace again.

“Soundwave isn’t doing a good job.” Megatron smirked. “This is no way to teach a Prime. He’s getting his aft whipped tomorrow.”

“Or I’m just too nervous when you’re holding my hands.” Optimus protested, “Please, do leave the poor mech’s aft alone.”

Those servos gentling holding his went stiff for a klik. Megatron continued to guide him.

“And you flirt. What a surprise.” He said.

“I do a lot things you don’t know yet.” Optimus said.

“Like what?”

“Well remember when I said Cybertronians apologise to the mechs they care for with flowers.” Optimus began casually, “I did bring you flowers first didn’t I?”

Megatron wasn’t particularly pleased, “I see you value me as your rival.”

“Sometimes people can value others in more than one way.”

The soft music was running toward its end.

“If this is another game as a revenge for Soundwave,” Megatron was slightly uneased, “Well consider it as mildly effective. But I suggest you go no further.”

“I’m afraid I can not do that.” 

That was when the music suddenly switched to something aggressively passionate with a beating rhythm. And all of a sudden the clumsy dancer named Optimus grabbed his partner by the waist and took the charge as the dominant guidance. Megatron was caught off-guard, he was a fool to think Soundwave really was a bad teacher.

Of course he wasn’t. The strong servos of the Prime swing him like a feather. By the end of the first round he was lifted by the waist and thrown around before lowered into his partner’s arms.

 “If you have any objection it’s your last chance to give up.” Optimus whispered in his audials.

And Megatron laughed in his neck, “And admit my defeat? In your dreams.” 

He grabbed the Prime’s hand and held it tight. Before the other could hesitate he kicked loose the Prime’s left pede and swing the other in a full circle.

“How about you, any objections?” The ex-warlord laughed loudly.

“I’m only getting started.” Optimus laughed with him. Then he went straight for his partner’s move and guided the other to throw him over his own shoulder. And Megatron gladly took the challenge, only to have his helm tangled by the Prime’s white thighs.

With a loud bang, Megatron was knocked down onto the floor. He landed onto the dance floor feeling dizzy and realised he was looking up to a Optimus Prime who was sitting on his chest with his thighs wrapped around his shoulders. Obviously he did the wrong move on purpose.

The crowd went deadly silent, however, no one was running for the door. He could hear someone holding his breath.

“That was a dirty move.” He commented. “I can’t imagine you got it from Soundwave.”

“That was original.” Optimus sounded a bit awkward and nervous, “Well, can’t always blame the teacher.”

“Of course.” Megatron pinched between his optics. “Now could you please get away from me? In case you’re wondering, mechs are staring holes in us.”

“Of course,” Optimus quickly agreed, ”But since through the years between us, most questions were always asked when the other was pinned down, I feel like I should ask something this time, too.”

“Do ask.”

Optimus took a long, nervous moment just to ex-vent, then he asked. “As witnessed by many, I, Optimus Prime, claim my intention to court you, Megatron of Tarn. Do you accept my courtship?”

The crowd boiled with loud screams and shouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: cuddling, fluff, bad english.  
> Not good for ya.

The next morning Soundwave’s office desk was piled up with energon candies, metal flowers and a few earthly CDs, which he gladly shared with his lord soon afterwards.

Megatron, though with a sour mood and a hangover, did not say no to the sweet treats, but had mixed feelings when Soundwave started decorating their shared office with those metal flowers.

“I would never have imagined that one day I’d live to see you being this joyful.” He asked pitifully, “Do you even understand why they send these to you?”

“Comfort: for failure in maintaining romantic relationship with Optimus Prime.” Soundwave monotoned.

“And you’re not bothered at all. Actually you are the opposite of being bothered.” Megatron commented, “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Lord Megatron: secretly happy and relieved.” Soundwave pointed out for him, “Telepathy: convenient.”

“And you are openly happy and content.” Megatron continued, “Don’t need telepathy to see that.”

The observation deck was empty as usual. With half the mechs running shifts around the city and the other half on exploring missions, the old base was more of a civilized facility with a handful of guards and construction engineers.

“Tell me.” Megatron sighed deeply, “How much involved were you in this whole thing? And how long have you been planning?”

“Soundwave: did not plan, merely encouraged.” His TIC monotoned, “Optimus Prime: made his own decision.”

“Then why did you encourage him when you can have the Prime for yourself.”

“Pleasure.” Soundwave explained, “More.”

Megatron nodded understandingly but not agreeingly. “You should learn one day, to tell others’ pleasure and your own apart. And when it comes, you might regret everything you just said.”

From the other side of the room, Soundwave slowly turned around and looked at him directly in the optics. It was hard to tell when his optics were covered by visors but Megatron could tell by experience he was staring right at him behind those visors. He could imagine how those golden optics softened at him.

Regretting about what he just said, Megatron patted his own legs, “Come here. Take what you wished for.”

When Soundwave hesitated he coaxed again, faking his impatience even though he knew it wouldn’t work on the telepath.

“Don’t start developing a habit of letting me repeat myself. You won’t like what comes next.”

Eventually Soundwave carefully approached and climbed into the larger mech’s lap. The warm joy from last night that had been pondering Megatron’s spark from this morning slowly flew into his body from where Megatron’s servo held him. Soundwave shuddered violently before melting into a small, happy puddle in his lord’s arms.

“You are the boss.” He finally gave up his voice synthesizer in his overwhelmed state, “You can make sure I never learn that.”

“One has to live his own life.” Megatron explained, “Just because you can empathize better than most due to your ability doesn’t mean you can live their lives.”

“I don’t live everyone’s life.” Soundwave disagreed. “Just some mechs.”

“Why do you need another when you already have a life that’s you own to attend to.”

Soundwave was silent for a long moment in his arms, and when he spoke again, it was barely a whisper.

“It’s so easy to listen to, yet so hard to be part of someone’s life.” His words were soft, “Your life. When you spare no effort to push me away.”

Regretting even deeper, Megatron let his apology flow across their physical link. He closed his eyes and lowered his chin down to Soundwave’s shoulder.

“I gave you great pain in the past few months, didn’t I.” He admitted, “You devotion never fails to amaze me.”

“Optimus’ devotion will equally amaze you.” Soundwave cheered again, “You just wait and see.”

 “You won’t let me peek this time?”

“No telepathic spoilers.” Soundwave denied, offering his shoulder. “But I can give you advice on your dates.”

“Well,” Megatron snorted, “he did say I can bring you along if I want. That is, if you want to come too, of course.”

“I’m not coming.” Soundwave hummed, “Not this time.”

“A pity. You will have a lot of fun witnessing my awkward first date.” He paused, lifted his helm from Soundwave’s shoulder and looked down into the other’s optics more seriously, “Will you at least elaborate on what gift might please the Prime of yours?”

“Not mine,” Soundwave tilted his chin, “I can make you a list to choose from.”

Suddenly there was a loud and short hiss from the other side of the room, they both turned ad saw an all-tensed-up Thundercracker standing at the door of the office, who immediately apologised as fast as he could and threw the reports he was carrying onto the table before escaping the office.

“Hmm.” Megatron was slightly amused, “Almost forgot you have a secretary now.”

“And you just made the closing betting pool double complicated tonight.” Soundwave commented with a slim sense of humour.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was you who started the betting pool.”

“No.” His TIC turned to look up to his lord, “It was Jazz. He did bribe me to let it pass though, with the open access to the monitor camera in Starscream’s office in the Council Hall. I helped him to deceive Prowl into believing it was Swerve’s doing as a bonus, for mutual benefit of course.”

Megatron sighed for the numerous time today, “You damn post-war spies and your espionage skills.”

 

It was the first thing he brought up when Megatron finished his meeting with Optimus Prime the next cycle. Technically it was now their private time, when everyone else exited the meeting room, the two leaders were to take their first date tonight as agreed before.

“I intend to open a centre for post-war soldiers.” Megatron proposed, “A short of medical help within decepticons as usual, I require assistance from your cause.”

“It is the most decent advice I heard today.” Optimus sighed, “Why did you not bring it up during the meeting ?”

“Because you will.” said Megatron as they walked toward the gate of the council hall, “It would be too out of character for me to bring it up. Some of your officers will find it suspicious. So in the next meeting, you bring it up and I agree.”

“Consider it as a deal.” Optimus agreed, and opened the gate for the other leader to go first.

The truck former transformed and offered a lift for the other once they were outside the building. The gun-former hopped up and took his ride. They headed to the border of Iacon together, making sure half of the city witnessed their first date on their way.

“I see peace has made you wild.” Megatron commented on his back.

“Just like peace has made you soft and domesticated.” The truck commented right back at him. “It looks good on you too.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” On his back, the ex-warlord suddenly announced cheerfully, “I brought you a gift and I think it’s the perfect timing to show you.”

Optimus sensed the other shifted behind him and attached something to his exhaust pipes. Now he could hear suspiciously annoying jingling noise following his tires.

“Did you just chained empty metal cans to my arrears?” The Prime questioned loudly, “I take it back. You are still a moron.”

And the moron laughed loudly on his back.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: no beta, bad English, not enough sleep. Same always.  
> Extra warning: Megop fluff

 

They headed to the old watchtower.

It was Ratchet’s suggestion. According to the old medic, sneaking into the watchtower at night was one of the favourite dares among Iaconian couples a few centuries before the war.

“Don’t you ever tell anyone else. “ Ratchet warned. And by anyone he probably meant Prowl.

Yet Prowl surely wasn’t the only military strategist in Iacon, the moment Megatron climbed to the top of the tower with Optimus he turned his helm and suggested to his fellow leader.

“We need to rebuild this watchtower. Its location too good to stay as a pile of rubbles.”

For once, Optimus didn’t exactly disagree with him.

“This shall be a farewell trip then.” He commented, “Next time, the old tower no more.”

“Quite poetic today, aren’t you.” Megatron wasn’t buying his exaggerated nostalgia, “I didn’t know a few metal cans can do such magic on a Prime.”

“Neither did I.” Optimus sighed, he offered one servo to lift the other into the observation deck, “Here, come to take a look at some decent Iacon scenery before you make looking down from this particular spot into another military mission.”

Megatron took that servo and climbed up the deck with the Prime. The observation deck of the decepticon base surely had some view, but it was nothing compared to what he could see from here. The Cybertronian capital unfolded beneath his pedes in an openly inviting way, with all its flashing lights and warm noise and all the buildings that lined up along the well-constructed streets, forming neat and pretty patterns that almost looked religious. For a moment, it was like a dream came true. He silently adored the stunning view for a long time.

Then he asked.

“Soundwave showed you my vision didn’t he. That’s why you took me here.”

“Yes.” Optimus admitted, “I asked him to.”

Megatron nodded at his honest answer without turning his helm to look at him. Instead, he looked down to the floor on which they stood. The long-abandoned tower’s floor was covered by a red layer of rust.

“Once I pictured myself on top of Cybertron, looking down the city of Iacon just like this. It was the Autobots’ capital, a view over the city means victory. It means the war has eventually reached an end. I dreamt about it, from day-dreaming to actually dreaming. Soundwave must have felt it too. He tried to map out the city for me, sent loads of spies down the sewers of Iacon for infiltration and even tried to do it himself. Many of his spies died down there. When they brought up the sewer system repair, I signed him off.”

And they dug out tons of rusty bodies of dead mechs down there, part of the reason people were so desperate for a few decent drinks when the mission was finally over and done with.

“Now that I’m really here looking at Iacon from above.” Megatron gestured to the night view of Iacon, “Well, not exactly how I pictured it to say the least.”

He paused for a silent moment.

“I did not win.” He said.

Optimus shook his helm, “But you were right about the war being over when the day finally comes.”

“It’s very reassuring,” Megatron commented, “coming from you.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“Of course.” He commented again, “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

Then they went silent again, both turned to watch the dimming view of the city, their city. It was like staring at the portrait of someone you know. Familiar yet so strange.

“Sometimes I wish we could have done it sooner.” Said Optimus. “I did try.” He tried not to sound too accusingly, but judging from his tone it was clear enough he needed an answer.

“Wasn’t the right time, Prime. Never was the right time.” The ex-warlord answered, “And that’s what you don’t understand. The wrath of our people started the war. If someone who grew up being kicked around like nobody cared, you offer him the chance to kick back one day, he won’t willingly give it up until he’s too exhausted to do more kicking.”

“I don’t like this answer.” The Prime frowned upon it.

“Then why do you agree to build the defence system.” Megatron questioned, “If you truly believe everyone’s a friend. As far as I know, the city is the only functional community right now. We have the base particularly to defend us from our allies.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Optimus explained, “I’m not saying I don’t understand what you said. I’m simply saying I don’t like it. We’ve seen millions of years of war, during which revenge became the daily life of almost everyone. I can understand sometimes good people may desire terrible things to happen to others, truthfully, sincerely, wholeheartedly, badly. But that only makes me sad. I try talking them out of it whenever I can.”

“Very noble of you, as usual.” Megatron commented, “But you are your rare kind, Optimus. I’m sure even half of your followers won’t agree with you on this even if they won’t confront you for it. Even your precious, emotionless, little Soundwave had his time.”

“He did?” Optimus wasn’t exactly surprised, yet was curious.

Megatron sighed deeply, “He was one of the many mechs that the old Senate kept within their political circle for the sole purpose of fulfilling their needs.  Poor kid came online with a rare frame type and a special ability which made his life even more miserable. He never truly made it out into the Cybertronian society, has been a spy all his life and still is one. I met him at the beginning of my revolution, caught the eye of his master and he was sent to assassinate me, and when he failed, they turn the mission into a seduction, which, didn’t exactly fail as you can see. But I managed to turn him instead and he played double agent for me inside the Hall. I helped him out by slaughtering his masters, freeing him and his friends on the way. You know the rest of the story.”

“At least he didn’t attempt to kill his masters himself.” Optimus protested.

“Only because his coding wouldn’t allow him.” Megatron shook his helm, “You should see his face when it happened. He was down straight scary even for me. I won’t want to live to see it again.”

Optimus went silent again.

And Megatron sighed again. “Come think about it. If someone butchered that medic of yours”

“If someone killed you.” Optimus cut him off, “I’ll never be able to forgive that mech.”

Megatron frowned at his sudden confession, “And what if that’s you.”

“Especially if that’s me.”

Megatron snorted. “Glad to know something finally knocked some common sense into your noble self after all these years.”

“And glad to know after all these years you’re finally too exhausted to throw more kicks at me.” Optimus joked along, trying to sound as casual as he could.

“Metaphorically.” Megatron added.

“Metaphorically.” Optimus agreed.

They made a few small plans about the watchtower’s reconstruction after the conversation. Seeing the topic had made their date too formal, Optimus offered to play a song with a violin he pulled out of his subspace. He didn’t do great, yet Megatron found it fabulous.

“It’s my favourite song.” He laughed.

“I know.” Optimus smiled.

“Now you’ve made me feel guilty.” The ex-warlord announced, “A few metal cans as a gift doesn’t deserve this.”

“Well you can make up for it next time.” Optimus didn’t mind, “I’m sure Soundwave has better advice.”

“Why wait for next time,” Megatron however, didn’t agree, “when you can do it now.”

Optimus was caught off-guard when Megatron grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him closer. Before he could protest his lips touched the other’s lips. They kissed on top of the acient watchtower that had been watching over the once-abandoned-yet-now-thriving-again Iacon for millions of years. The moons of Cybertron that had witnessed the birth of the planet from the beginning, now witnessed their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy.

When things were finally settled between Optimus and Megatron, if Megatron didn’t become the happiest decepticon, Soundwave surely did.

Megatron’s good mood echoed with his own through their telepathic connection in a way that it accelerated itself to the extent it was overwhelming even without any physical contact. The stoic communications officer was constantly in a dreamy state. Even if his face and voice were completely masked as usual, his slightly faster pace in conducting everything sold him out.

Although most decepticons just assumed the tapedeck was simply overworking himself to cope with his recent break-up, Megatron was deeply embarrassed by his own influence on Soundwave. It was like looking into a magic mirror that showed a perfect reflection of a version of you with all the sinful secrets you hide within yourself written all over your face. So one day he just grabbed Soundwave by his neck and coaxed him to say yes to whatever he proposed while he pumped his overwhelming feelings into the poor telepath. When the magic mirror of Megatron by the name of Soundwave woke up from his lord’s filthy strategy, he found himself the rightful owner of their once shared command office, with Thundercracker taking his usual seat by his side, himself sitting in Megatron’s old seat and Megatron moving to the old office of Starscream.

That was very inappropriate, very inappropriate of him to accept such arrangement. Even if Megatron changed the office labels instantly, it was nowhere near stopping mechs from talking. Is it a guilty promotion?

 Thundercracker however, was in fact, being helpful. He made hot energon drinks for his superior commander Soundwave every afternoon, and when Soundwave required him to deliver a cup to Lord Megatron as well, he turned it into a daily habit the next day.

“I still don’t see it necessary.” Soundwave tried to persuade his lord for the numerous time.

“Of course it is.” Megatron sipped into his hot energon drink, “Your work amount has been increasing ever since we achieved peace. It’s fairly obvious that among the ranks, you’re the officer that’s the most suitable choice for dealing with domestic affairs. I however, as a specialist of warfare, would like to focus more of my attention on the re-establishment of the planet defense system. Besides, it’s the best that your secretary can work with you in the same room. Jobs are done more efficiently as you can see.”

“You are just telling the lie by telling the truth.” Soundwave protested.

“Well,” Megatron innocently sipped into his cup, “A truth is a truth.”

Soundwave made a rather childish face at his lord before retracting his mask and turning back on his vocoder.

“By the way Optimus was asking about when will you be joining us in a date.” Megatron added before he left.

“Soundwave: will consider.” Soundwave monotoned, “Optimus and Megatron: have to wait.”

 

Well, turned out they didn’t have to wait, and Soundwave didn’t have time to consider at all, much to his frustration. Because of course, the two stubborn leaders still had to fight over a butt load of slag even if they were dating. Soundwave wasn’t surprised at all when Megatron stormed back into the base and locked himself in his office after his next routine meeting with Optimus Prime.

“He wants to force our people into sharing living space with his autobots.” His lord angrily announced, “Remember that large area in Northeast Iacon that they proposed to clean up last year? He turned it into some stupid realestate business land and now he wants my decepticons to move into that area altogether. I now find myself deep in the suspicion that he planned this right from the beginning.”

Soundwave, simply asked Thundercracker when was the next meeting between the two leaders.

“Tomorrow.” The blue seeker answered shakingly.

“You will go.” Megatron claimed.

Just like that, that was how he found himself at the gate of the City Council Hall, for the very first time ever since the war ended. The guards reluctantly let him in when he explained he came in representative of Megatron, and led him to the meeting room where he was supposed to meet with Optimus Prime himself.

However, the mech he found in the meeting room was Prowl. The embarrassed police car coughed awkwardly at him before turning on his datapad.

“I was expecting our leaders to become mature once they’re in a relationship.” Prowl commented with a deep frown. “I do see they are now heading in the opposite direction of my previous prediction.”

Soundwave simply nodded at his comment and took out his own datapad as well.

As far as the discussion went, it went smoothly. The autobots cleared the area for the purpose of housing new arrivals, yet Cybertron did not receive more visits of its old citizens like they expected. The alternative option obviously, was housing the decepticons who still lived within the military base. Optimus proposed to Megatron and suggested he should enforce the decision to some extent, otherwise none of the decepticons would move one inch closer to said area. And it consequently angered the decepticon leader because he saw it as a proof the other leader wasn’t allowing free will to his people like he advertised to his own.

“And we don’t understand.” Prowl arrogantly confirmed. “Why exactly, offering proper housing to a troop that still live in a crowded military base is by any means offensive.”

“Decepticons: have different needs.” Soundwave corrected. “Standards: unresembling.”

“Under what circumstances will the decepticons find the cleared northeast Iacon habitable?”

“Permission: to reformat living conditions accordingly.”

“I’ll have to consult my superior commander about your query.” Prowl stated.

Soundwave received the confirmation from Optimus’ office once he hit the road home, obviously the Prime did foresee his request and premade his decision just in case.

For his credits, Megatron was not as insufferable as every autobot assumed, he just inclined to make people think he was.

“They will request financial deals once we start making plans on reconstructing the area since we will be, literally buying the land they cleared. That, I’m willing to pay. But considering it’s located between the two most populated autobots districts, and already has a handful of autobots habiting within, I don’t think the reconstruction thing will be too negotiable.” Megatron commented, “How much percentage of the area is empty?”

“74%.” Soundwave answered.

“Inform the council we will be lodging decepticon habsuite ships into the area as alternative accommodation units. Save a lot of money and resources this way.” Megatron concluded, “We will tell the troops they are allowed lodge into the open field in northeast Iacon and live there either within their old ships or finding place outside once the negotiation is settled. Our current ship-lodging space within the base is running out quickly as stray decepticons return. They will find the idea quite tempting.”

And they won’t feel themselves being particularly cornered by the autobots around if they can live with their portable ships. Soundwave noted.

“Autobots: will require ship modifications.” He assessed, “Weapon system deactivation: will be required. Flying system deactivation: may also be required.”

“Leave that part to me.” Megatron said.

And their second meeting went south again, and Soundwave found himself at the gate of the council hall for the second time within the same decacycle. Prowl was not amused, either.

“The Prime required the ships be modified according to our regulations before lodging.” He was trying to sound less embarrassed.

“Lord Megatron: will not allow autobot engineers to modify decepticon ships.”

They were both silent for an awkward klik.

“Modifications: decepticon engineers. Examinations: autobot engineers.” Soundwave quickly suggested.

“Deal.” Prowl agreed instantly as if waiting for exactly this sentence.

They both left the meeting wondering why exactly the two leaders made such thorough pre-decisions for every possibility yet couldn’t solve such simple negotiations by themselves.

And two cycles later when Soundwave was sent in again in representative of Megatron just to solve the presumably one-breem short meeting with Prowl.

“Can you guys agree to send in your old galaxy mapping resources and foreign planets’ biology records as part of the land payment?” The police car growled.

“Replacement: percentage?”

“15% off the payment.”

“Affirmative.”

The fourth time, the police car finally snapped, before Soundwave entered the hall, he already could hear the meeting table rolling down the hallway with his enhanced hearing abilities. After a breem of impassionate yelling, involving words like efficiency and communication, he was finally greeted by the Prime himself at the door. First time in one month and a half, ever since Soundwave moved out of his apartment after Megatron’s silent apology.

“This is not how I planned to meet you again.” Optimus awkwardly greeted. “I feel like I’ve been repeatedly saying this very sentence to you ever since our first encounter.”

“Optimus : have questions.” Soundwave answered.

“I do.” The Prime sighed.

 

Instead of returning to the decepticons’ base, Soundwave headed toward Optimus’ apartment with him. When they arrived the Prime made him energon drink in the kitchen.

“You taught me how to interact with him more efficiently in private. You forgot to teach me how to communicate with him efficiently on political occasions,” Optimus began, “I’m at lost. And I’m requesting your assistance.”

“Optimus: failing his duty.” Soundwave monotoned, “Duties: political negotiations.”

“Yes I did.” Optimus agreed, “I believed my presence only will anger Megatron.”

“Assumption: true. However, fact: absence, angers Lord Megatron even more.”

“Which is why now I’m facing it and trying to seek help from my best shot.” Optimus plead.

“Conclusion: agreeable. Query: where to begin.” The decepticon monotoned fast-paced.

“Begin with you talking with your own voice.” Optimus sighed, “If you still have faith in me.”

After a silent klik, Soundwave retracted his mask and revealed his face. To Optimus’ surprise, Soundwave was glaring at him under the mask, pouting. The almost childish facial expression was both deadly out of character for the stoic TIC and fitting his face perfectly well at the same time. Optimus almost chuckled at what he saw, which made the tapedeck glared even harder.

“What do we do without you, Soundwave.” The Prime amused, “I missed you a lot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prowl's table: RIP.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been moving recently and too busy to update. I've been sleeping at local hostels.  
> There are too many hostels in my life.

After a solid joor of listening to decepticon social values, Optimus found himself taking more and more pity on the mysterious Cybertronian lifeform that’s called the decepticons.

“So you can’t say the word ‘suggest’ to a decepticon, because 89% of the time it means a threat, and 11% of the time it actually is a direct order. And these numbers, are calculations personally done by yourself.” Optimus summarized, “Do you guys even understand the true meaning of this word?”

“Meanings of words are flexible according to context,” Soundwave explained, “Most decepticons are of low social status before the war and only learned the meaning of power during the war. The rank of power has always been assured through violence.”

“So they learned the basics of life through violence,” Optimus concluded, “then the war reassured them it is the truth of life.”

“Affirmative.”

“Soundwave if this is not gonna change, the war was for nothing.” Optimus pointed out.

“The war,” Soundwave doesn’t agree, “was to put the most powerful one on top of the rank, and by joining the decepticons, we choose the one as well as competing for the position.”

“The concept of you and Starscream?” Optimus asked.

“Affirmative.” Soundwave explained, “You compete before you reach the highest you can get. And when what’s above you clearly has higher power that can not be over-thrown, you attribute your obedience to your superior in exchange for safety. If you don’t choose between these two choices, you are considered a dangerous object until you show either you competence, or your obedience, otherwise, you will be removed from the line.”

“Megatron is my equal.” Optimus pointed out again.

“You know that.” Soundwave agreed, then disagreed, “but he doesn’t.”

Optimus let out a sigh, “His unnecessary over-aggressive competence during our discussions has been entirely unnerving. Now as you put it, it’s because he was trying to find my limit.” He then paused, “So it wasn’t me, it’s him.”

“By autobot standard, maybe. But by decepticon standard, it is completely your fault. The autobots may consider it a virtue to step aside from a fight, but for decepticons, it merely means disrespect.” Soundwave wasn’t being easy on him, “When he was trying to sort out the situation in his way, you went hiding. By his standard, it was extremely disrespectful.”

“He did send you in rather than coming back himself.”

“I’m a perfect portrait of the decepticon’s impassive obedience. And it’s officially my job to test others’ for Lord Megatron when he can not do it himself.” Soundwave pointed out, “But Prowl was mixed signal. If I didn’t know you already, I’d take it as a dangerous sign.”

“Glad to hear you admit you know me by now.” Optimus pointed out. “I do realise you never show any sign of trust issues like the rest of decepticons.”

“Well,” Now it was Soundwave’s turn to sigh, “not everyone is a telepath.”

They both paused over their hot energon, staring down the reflection of themselves inside the cups.

“When you said you did the calculation yourself,” said Optimus, “for the true meaning of the word ‘suggest’. Were you using yourself as a data sample?”

“Affirmative.”

“So it could be just a decepticon thing,” Optimus tried, “Merely a miscommunication of a culture shock. Why didn’t you just tell Megatron this.”

The tapedeck blinked at him briefly before quickly turning his helm down to look at his cup of hot energon. He was suddenly quieter than usual, a sign which Optimus recently learnt the meaning of. He does that when he felt offended but try not to show. The curve of his face softened in a collected way, as if he was trying to contain any pain.

“I believe Lord Megatron told you I was already a professional spy when the war started.” He quietly whispered, “Who do you think I worked for back then?”

The government is the only answer. Optimus had his suspicions, now they are confirmed. Considering the autobot cause was directly born from the old government system, it was safe to say that Soundwave was in a way an autobot, or at least had the chance to become one. And obviously he didn’t go down that path. His experience as a pre-psudo-autobot made its attribute to his personal calculation of what the word “suggest” meant during the communications directly made to him, and eventually led to the conclusion he just stated to the current leader of the autobots.

“But as you just said, you know me now. You know I would never mean such a thing.” Optimus protested, almost pleadingly, “I would never disguise a trap as a suggestion, or try to force any idea upon you for my own good.”

“Maybe you won’t.” Soundwave shrugged bitterly, “But it was Prowl who I met in the Council Hall.”

That was the moment when Optimus came to his slow but clear realization what the other was truly trying to hide.

“You are angry at me.” He whispered, “You are not just angry for Megatron, you are angry at me yourself.”

“You find it disrespectful that I stepped away on you.” He added. “You expected to see me but I didn’t show up.”

Soundwave swallowed hard. A brief moment of shame slipped from his face. He lifted his cup and took a sip, and when he put it down, he excused himself.

“What you do next is up to you.” He said, rising from his chair, “You don’t need me to remind you how impatient my lord is.”

“Wait,” Optimus spoke but did not try to stop him, “Did you think Megatron and I would eventually forsake you once the relationship between us has been settled? Is this why you kept us waiting?”

“Decepticons will not engage in competence when they know they can’t defeat their opponents. Settle down where you belong, know your own place. It is the goal of my life and I’m a realist.” Soundwave did not turn to face him, “I already told you that.”

When Optimus returned to the Hall later that day, he asked Ultra Magnus to arrange for his next meeting with Megatron to take place in the Decepticon Command Centre instead of the Council Hall.

Ultra Magnus, however, found it quite strange because it was Thundercracker who answered the call from the decepticons’ end, not their usual representative Soundwave.

 

The second best advice of all time however, came from the mouth of Starscream.

“We will hold a celebration.” The seeker ordered. He hadn’t had a meeting by Megatron’s side inside the decepticon base for a long time.

“No we won’t.” Megatron pinched his forehead as if trying to ease his unstoppable frown. “Not before we can find place for all the residents from the newly arrived ships, both physically and socially.”

“Why are we babysitting these neutrals exactly!” Starscream protested as fast as he could. Being the usual opponent of all his lord’s plans, he surely can predict everything Megatron would way before he said it. “As far as I can tell, they are their own society. How about we leave them alone.”

“The intentions of the new arrivals are not clear, yet.” Ultra Magnus plainly suggested, “Socializing with them, will help us understand both their needs and intentions.”

“Great, conspiracy!” Starscream claimed sarcastically, “I love it when some losers who don’t even have the guts to join either side of the war can plot against both of us!.Don’t you agree Mighty Lord Megatron?”

Megatron simply ignored him. “Optimus, you seem really quiet today. Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I actually think a celebration will be beneficial.” Optimus however, took Soundwave’s advice to the spark this time and drew his line as clear and loud as he could. “As suggested we need to socialize with them to find out their intentions in order to better settle them down, a welcome celebration will do just fine. But I do agree now isn’t the perfect time, I think as they now try to vote for an internal leader to negotiate with us, we need to draw up a rough proposal first before they come to us.”

Contrary to Optimus’ imagination, or simply too tired of Starscream to argue any further, Megatron nodded in agreement and moved the topic forward.

“Residency area first then.” He opened a copy of the current Iacon map. “The exploration team did mention a few habitable locations nearby as well though, just in case they want to be as far away from us as they can.”

The meeting went much more smoothly compared with their previous ones, despite Starscream’s screeching, Ultra Magnus’ too many ex-vents and Megatron’s ever-suffering forehead, they actually reached agreeable conclusions on a lot of things. When they wrapped it up he could swear he heard Ultra Magnus weep behind his back.

“I need to talk to Megatron privately after the meeting.” Said Optimus apologetically, “Would you mind taking my datapads back to my office?”

“You can say the word date you know.” Starscream snorted loudly, “We won’t scream and run away.”

He was definitely getting impatient waiting too long for his money to come back with kids from the massive betting pool.

“Go find a better use for your vocalizer, Starscream.” Megatron warned, “Or you might be better off without it.”

The seeker then exited reluctantly with Ultra Magnus.

When they were finally alone Optimus began with the question of the day.

“I was quite surprised when you said Starscream will be joining us in the meeting instead of Soundwave.” He said, “How’s he by the way.”

“Pouting.” Megatron spat out blatantly. “Congratulations, you’ve managed to achieve something that even I never made it: angering my TIC.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself my love,” Optimus smiled,”I’m sure you’re also partially responsible for his anger.”

The phrase “my love” certainly had its way into the ex-warlord’s spark, for he began pouting himself.

“Flirting will get you nowhere.” He crossed his arms. “Especially won’t buy you a key into his office.”

“Of course not.” Optimus nodded in agreement, “But did I get myself a ticket for a ride with you then?”

“Well if this is some stupid compensation for agreeing with Starscream in front of me you can save it.” Megatron shot him a glare, “Do I look like I’ve been leading an army for millions of years because I can’t listen to some advice? But do me a favour and don’t stroke his ego because I’m sure he will ask you to stroke it for him later.”

Optimus paused for a klik before admitting to his partner and opponent, “You do realise the best person to send for the negotiation with the new ship residents will be Soundwave.”

“Of course I do.” Megatron snorted, “A telepath is a telepath. Whether you’re prepared for him or not, you can’t beat someone on an ability that only he possesses and you don’t.”

Nodding to the other’s agreement, Optimus admitted, “I sometimes envy your sincerity with both others and yourself. I, however, never learned to do the same.”

“If you eventually acknowledge the violent and selfish nature of Cybertronians to your spark some day, I can teach you a few tricks from there.” Megatron teased sarcastically.

“I now try to imagine how Soundwave must feel about your sincerity a lot recently.” Optimus tried again, “Especially when I’ve recently realised he’s not sincere with himself quite a lot.”

“Well I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him about that.” Megatron refused to buy it either.

Yet Optimus had to try again, “He was never as difficult to give me an insight to your feelings as you are to his.”

“He’s a rather reserved mech, likes to keep everything to himself.” Megatron refused again, But I’m not. We both know that, and so do you.”

Eventually Optimus wouldn’t yield without putting up a fight, “And that makes me wonder why since you know each other so well, you two never got together.”

And that did it. It sent the grumpy Megatron into his unusually silent state.

“I didn’t know he gave you an insight that deep.” He eventually admitted, but quickly switched to a slightly different topic, “Tell me, how deep did you go with him.”

When Optimus hesitate to digest his question, he asked again and more specifically.

“Did you interface.”

“No.” Optimus quickly denied, then suddenly realised it wasn’t exactly the case. His panic must have shown on his face, for Megatron flinched at him, yet didn’t dig in any deeper. He simply changed the topic again.

“How deep do you plan to go with him then?”

“As deep as a relationship can get.” Optimus admitted.

“And how deep do you plan to go with me then?” Megatron questioned again.

Optimus had to choose his words even more carefully, “As deep as you desire for it to become.”

“Good.” Megatron praised, “That means you will have to push him over the edge at some point.”

If Optimus didn’t know better by now, he would have said “I can say exactly the same thing to you”, but he didn’t forget Soundwave’s lecture about the mysterious ritual that’s called the decepticon competence, so instead he asked.

“Why didn’t you do it yourself?” Why didn’t you do this to each other by yourselves.

“Because he can’t say no to me.” Megatron turned his face away, “And I can’t say these things to him when I know he can’t say no to me. The coding, his coding.” He paused, “It’s just not gonna work as long as I’m his owner.”

So there could have been a happy ending for the two decepticons, but fate stopped them just as it stopped everyone else on their way to a better life.

He paused his words, and looked into Optimus’ optics, “If you find the situation particularly unfair for you, you may quit. But remember, you asked for this yourself from the beginning. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’m not here to talk about fairness.” Optimus stated.

“Then what are you trying to talk about then.” Megatron snarled, then suddenly spoke in a much quieter voice, “He’s thinking about quitting himself, isn’t he?”

Optimus nodded and the both of them sat in silence for a while.

“OK,” Megatron eventually gave in. He threw a key card at his guest, “You won your ticket to the show.”

Later they broke into Soundwave’s shared office with Thundercracker together. And before the tapedeck could escape, he was seized by the waist by Megatron and stranded down to the back of Optimus Prime who quickly transformed and took his kidnapped decepticon for a truck ride outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in need of a good sleep.  
> Please let me know what you think.   
> I'll be back soon.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter. I finally figured out how to do Italic.

The headed straightly in the direction of the watchtower. The truck-former was on his full speed, whirling his tires storming the streets, with the gun-former sitting on his back holding the tapedeck mech down in his root mode to stop him from transforming. The ex-spy can be really sneaky if he transformed into his tiny alt-mode and neither of them would like that to happen. Optimus could swear he heard Soundwave rolling his T-cog against his cargo bed. Bold of him to assume he could still try escaping when he was being pinned down against Optimus Prime’s back by the Decepticon Warlord Megatron, but given the situation, really can’t blame him for trying.

When they finally arrived at the foot of the tower Optimus pulled to a full stop and left the explanation part to Megatron who, very innocently announced they simply took Soundwave here for a mapping survey.

“We discussed our future design for the city’s new border defense system during the meeting.” He explained convincingly, “Reviving the old system will be a great part of it, and we trust you to get the measurement job done more efficiently than any of our current engineers. As a former spy who successfully infiltrated the border yourself multiple times, you’re not only the best choice for the job, your advice on the re-design will be most valued by both parties as well.”

“And we expect you be fully professional and confidential about this mission.” He added. “Optimus here will be offering the transportation part of it for he has the most suitable speed and strength for it.”

Optimus sent an internal comm to the ex-warlord clapping his excellent speech.

__You are a professional liar._ _

__Thank you for figuring__ _ _it__ _ _out.__  Megatron answered his line, _ _it’s been advertised in the name the whole time.__

 _ _Thank you for the friendly reminder.__  Optimus replied, __And I love you too.__

The ex-warlord made a mysterious snorting sound.

When Soundwave finally nodded to the instructions with very very slow motion, Megatron let go of him. Optimus hopped them off his back and transformed.

“Let’s begin with the watchtower.” He suggested.

When Soundwave was clearly hesitant to obey, Megatron slammed a servo onto his back. Optimus however, found the gesture too intimidating and was about to stop him from doing so when the unique back panel of Soundwave that greatly resembled the battery slot of a boombox suddenly slid open. Three pairs of coiled cables slid out of the now open panel and stretched in a slow way that almost looked shyly. The all six of them extended into full length in all six directions and when they finally reached their positions, the end of each cable transformed into a signal transmitter that looked like some sort of spy device and began transmitting.

Too afraid to ask, Optimus again chose to send Megatron a comm call instead of speaking vocally.

__What are those?_ _

__Sonic transmitter,__  Megatron answered through the comm, __They can transmit and receive a wide range of sonic waves that can help him to acquire the physical information of his surroundings within a certain distance. Length, width, material, thickness, locations, and even colours and population within. How much information and how long distance can he cover is his own secret.__

__That_ _ __’_ _ __s why he was hesitant. He was waiting for your permission to show these to me?_ _

__That, too.__  Megatron admitted, __He doesn__ _ _’__ _ _t like it when people see him like this. Some mechs don__ _ _’__ _ _t react well when they see tentacles. Sparkeaters as they may say. You can imagine the rest part of the story.__

After a while Soundwave stopped transmitting and receiving signals. He sent Optimus a set of coordinates and the latter mech obeyed, allowing the two former disposable class mechs to hop on his back and carried them even further.

It turned out once letting the tentacles out, Soundwave wasn’t so keen on retracting them back inside. During their travelling and when he wasn’t doing remote measurements, he simply wrapped the cables around his limbs to save space. The extendable soft metal coiled around both his forearms and thighs circle by circle in an erotic way. If Optimus wasn’t into bondage before, he certainly was now.

 _ _Do you think he__ _ _’__ _ _s doing it on purpose?__  He asked through the comm.

 _ _No. They are like his extra limbs. It__ _ _’__ _ _s more like tangling fingers or putting one leg over the other when one__ _ _’__ _ _s relaxing.__ Megatron answered, _ _Can__ _ _’__ _ _t blame you for asking, I had my own suspicions myself once upon a time.__

Taking notes to his datapad, Soundwave quietly uncoiled the cable that wrapped around his left thigh. It slowly slid around coil by coil making the delicious scraping sound and eventually retracted into its pod on its owner’s back. Both leaders heard the pod softly clicked close. Soundwave eyed them nervously before quickly turning back to his datapad.

 _ _Are we too obvious.__ Optimus asked.

 _ _Could be more subtle.__  Megatron answered.

They moved from location to location under Soundwave’s instructions, further and further into the deserted, uninhabited part of the outer Iacon. As Soundwave must have figured out his leaders had foul intentions by now, he still chose to go with it. Optimus on the other servo, did not want him to feel being forced into this like the last time, he tried to chat with Soundwave during their journey.

“You seem rather nice when with either of us,” He said, “But quite the opposite when being with the both of us. I wonder why.”

Soundwave, however looked to Megatron as if seeking for permission every time before he spoke with Optimus and only spoke when he was granted permission.

“Statistics show the behaviour of both of you will usually undergoes a drastic change shortly after your encounters.” He explained. “And eventually falls into a more violent pattern after a while.”

“Not so true since the war is over and we don’t need to fight anymore.” Optimus protested. “Even if during the war, we managed just fine during our short cooperation periods that had actually happened quite often.”

“Temporary peace.” Soundwave monotoned. “Usually maintained by appearance of common enemy.”

“Are you suggesting that you fear that we might use you as a common target in order to maintain the peaceful state between us?” Optimus frowned.

However Megatron cut him off. “We are too far away from the inhabited area of Iacon now. Reports say the weather in this area after sunset has an acid rain probability of 89%. I suggest we take cover.”

“I know a station.” said Optimus, then he sent the coordinates to Soundwave.

After a brief calculation, the information specialist announced his conclusion. “Within reach.”

The station, turned out to be an old transit facility for inter-city transportation services. Judging from the easiness on both Soundwave and Optimus’ faces, both mechs know this place pretty well from before the war, more so for Optimus since he even knew where the station’s spare furnace is.

“We need some fuel to spend the night.” The ex-docker pulled the rusty key box out of a even rustier wall, “The location of the old fuel reservoir is behind the back door.”

Megatron caught his key and waved off the other two, heading to the back door. “Will be back in a klik. You guys go make the berth for me and remember to check if the washracks still work.”

To their surprise, the washracks really still work. Optimus stared at the flowing solvent in awe.

“We’d better check if the engineer who was responsible for these transit stations construction is still in contact.” He announced, “Whichever cause or neutral he might be now, we’re recruiting him as long as he’s alive.”

Soundwave however, simply opened his projector and played a visible search for a few kliks, then gave him the direct answer instantly.

“Designation: Equilimnus. Former autobot. Status: deceased.”

Optimus shook his helm and began sorting out the messy berth room. With the help of Soundwave’s multifuctional secondary limbs, it was faster than they planned. Megatron seemed to have been able to reactivate the fuel line somehow, for the furnace system was shot online at some time point and began heating up the freezing station outside Iacon. While the handy ex-miner was being handy in the basement, the two of them took their showers in turns and ended up cuddling inside the berth in the middle of the berthroom wrapped under a large blanket they found in the washrack waiting for Megatron to come join them.

Now that he was with Optimus alone, Soundwave seemed much more relaxed and even was slightly rubbing his shoulder against his in an unconsciously affectionate way.

Very hesitantly, Optimus asked him, “May I?”

The tapedeck blinked at him, as if it took him a while to understand what he was asking. And when he finally did he nodded and lied down, spreading his frame in a submissive way for the other to indulge just like the way he used to do during their short

flat-sharing time. And Optimus leaned to touch, running his digits over the elegant blue plating and sensitive seams. Emotions flew across their physical contact and into the void of telepathy, they both stared at the invisible emotional sparks between their frames in their now shared sense of visions. They missed this more than either of them imagined.

Then all of a sudden, Soundwave tensed up to the extreme.

Megatron stepped into the room from the door beside their berth and stopped there.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked, smirking at the scene. “Please, do go on and don’t mind me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have some nice threesome porn in next chapter.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many apoligies and some porn.  
> Porn. Bad English but still porn.  
> warnings: bad threesome porn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been away for a solid month. Reality is on my throat. So, hello again.  
> Quite a lot happened in the past month. I've been living in filth, more literally than not. Came very close to sue someone, went for petty revenge, cried aloud, had legal help. Went into multiple fights, killed a thousand cockroaches, slept at unconventional places, drowned myself in scientic research that's my reallife job yet still still not kiling cancer, booked flights to the fourth country in my life, signed a few important contracts with some unimportant people etc etc.  
> It's alright now I have fluff and porn at the same time. The world needs more of fluff and I've now made it my personal life goal to produce it.

Not so surprisingly, Megatron’s approval did not make the situation less awkward for Soundwave, for his passion almost diminished visibly. Optimus gently stroked the back of the tapedeck’s neck to coax him back into relaxation, yet achieved very little despite his patient effort. The only comfort was Soundwave didn’t retrieve his decision he made earlier, he still granted Optimus his consent. The telepath must have understood his fate tonight at the beginning of their journey and trying his best to stay as silent as he could. Optimus on the other servo, felt quite caught up in this dilemma.

He was about to give up, collect himself and launch a lengthy lecture about consent onto Soundwave when Megatron offered a helping servo.

“The base of his feelers.” he casually pointed out, “See for yourself.”

As if trying to prove his lord’s point, Soundwave immediately started retracting his tentacles as fast as he could, but Optimus managed to catch one before he could close his panel. The silver calibers tightened and clenched between his digits, making a curious noise that almost sounded nervous. The usually silent tapedeck was actually an expressive bot if you know where to look. Tempted, Optimus bent down his helm and licked the very first ring of caliber where the silver tentacle joint the back panel. As an instant response to encourage his boldness, the body beneath him visibly shivered and dropped back into the berth without warning. Optimus curled one arm around the other mech’s waist to ease him down into the berth and also to lift up his waist alone, revealing the half open back panel to his convenience. When the warm glossa touched Soundwave’s feelers panel, circling around the rim of the holes from which he let them out, coaxing them to come out again, to reveal more and more sensitive calibers for it to play with, the silence between them was finally broken by a shaking sob. Soundwave buried his helm into the metal sheet beneath him to hide his reactions, muting the uncontrollable sobs into inaudible hiss. He secretly yearned for this to happen when he let them out during the day and strategically displayed them like some customized sex toys, but when the sensational situation began to drown him like an acid storm and its poor turbofox for a victim, deadly uncertainty about whether or now he could make it out alive tonight hit him like a punch in the spark, but not regret, not yet. He was a soldier, a fighter after all, and all those vorns of espionage training wasn’t for nothing. Burying his face into the sheets as deep as he could, Soundwave willingly offered what Optimus was waiting for, all three pairs of his feelers returned to their full glory at the Prime’s mercy with a silent “Bon Appetit” written all over his now fully opened panel.

And Optimus didn’t need no one to spell out the word “invitation” for him, before he knew it, three of his feelers were grabbed into the Prime’s free hand and stroked altogether firmly and fiercely from the sensitive connector base, while the Prime licked another one slowly and playfully from the tip, all the way down to the very first ring of his fragile, delicate, silver caliber. There, right there, he suddenly opened his mouth and bit.

That alone triggered an overload so hard it reset Soundwave’s entire system all the way to a brief power shut-down. It happened in complete silence that if not for the unconscious broadcast of his telepathic feeds, Optimus wouldn’t even have realised what was happening to him. The telepath was disturbingly quiet during his overload, all the old medic tales about how loud one’s cogs could get when they reset altogether certainly didn’t fit in here. His parts clenched and clicked softly when he slowly came back online, it almost sounded like a lullaby for the young, soothing them to recharge during the night of storms. Optimus felt he really shouldn’t be as stunned as he was now, after all he was looking at a mech who was known for transforming right behind people’s back without being noticed for once. Megatron surely wasn’t lying about Soundwave being a rare type out of the Well. He was built to become a spy and a spy only, to the very extremes that even the screw caps inside him refused to make extra noise to attract unwanted attention. For a brief klick, Optimus was even wondering if Sondwave was capable of being loud even if he wanted to. He was a gift of warfare granted by Primus himself, a wet dream of functionalism who lived to it.

“You are so magnificent.” He announced with deep admiration, “So unique. So beautiful.”

And yet what a tragic, poor creature he was at the same time, who spent a lifetime denying and being denied of what he was and what he wanted. Yet to know what true pleasure was after all these uncountable solar cycles around all those many suns across the galaxies.

His digits trailed down Soundwave’s spread back panel with silent praise and admiration, all the way down to his hips, his thighs, those white thighs that hid his finest speakers, played his finest songs. He was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn’t realise Soundwave already came to his senses and in his unusual silence, turned around his helm to look at him. When his digits met the soft click of the panel between them, and he was greeted by the dripping valve of his lover, he raised his helm and met the gaze of those unsure, shy, golden optics. Soundwave might have mistaken his silent admiration for something else, hesitation maybe, impatience even, but Optimus already made up his mind, he had all night to teach him.

So he went with it, slipping a digit into the silently inviting entrance. The slick feeling around his fingertip awoke his memory when he explored inside Soundwave’s mind in search for useful information about Megatron, about how he had Megatron’s spike rutted deep into his valve over and over again as Soundwave, when at the same time, in the real world Soundwave was taking his very own spike deep into his warm throat and swallowed hard. He felt his mouth went dry and beneath him, Soundwave moaned with a broken sob. Optimus became curious, he carefully flipped his lover over with the finger still buried inside him. The telepath moaned even harder at the almost unbearably tense stimulation inside his valve, he must be oversensitive after his first overload, but judging by his heated frame and that burning face he could no longer hide into the berth sheets anymore, that finger in his valve definitely wasn’t the only stimulation he was receiving.

That was the moment when Optimus finally remembered the presence of Megatron, their only audience who had had a perfectly close view of the show since the beginning. Megatron looked as cool as he was when he arrived back from fixing the furnace, yet the heat he was radiating from his frame sold him out. Optimus might be the one physically touching Soundwave in the berth, but Megatron was the one who’d had steady telepathic link with his loyal TIC ever since the beginning of the war.

 Yet Megatron still refused to join.

“The old furnace is working really well.” said Optimus.

“Only need to fix a thousand of those rusty dirt to become this handy.” Megatron commented neutrally.

Soundwave managed a plead between his muted moans, “My lord, please.”

Megatron shushed him gently, “It’s gonna be alright.” 

Soundwave wasn’t even slightly convinced, he tried to reach for his lord but Optimus caught his hand halfway. He cupped those digits with his own and whispered to the side of Soundwave’s audial fin with same reassurance, “It’s gonna be alright. Let’s show him. Show him how good it can feel.”

He held Soundwave’s chin firmly as he added another digit into his dripping valve, making sure Megatron get a close look. And Soundwave’s exposed faced turned from being desperate into a whole new level of arousal right in front of Megatron’s optics. They were so close to each other and the silent tapedeck refused to break his longing, begging gaze. It was Megatron who eventually turned away his helm. He eyed the corner of the room nervously, breathing hot.

Before he could contain his over-excitement, the broken, sobbing hiss of Soundwave broke louder and it screamed pure heaven. He could easily imagine what state his TIC was right now. Soundwave was not forged by Primus sketchy, he was no clumsy soldier or thick warframe, he was a spy machine, he was supposed to be delicate, supposed to be sensitive everywhere, even inside, especially inside, he was supposed to line up a hundred sensors under the plating where all other average mechs gathered nothing more than a bunch of neurons or energon veins beneath. He could be so sweet, ripe with the most delicious juice in his overwhelmed state. He could get so overstimulated and overloaded by a single touch, if he’d let you.

And judging by the way he was losing control of his vocalizer, he was letting Optimus to his best.

And that reminded him.

That reminded him that he could imagine Soundwave, picturing Soundwave in every small detail with his filthy mind, yet he couldn’t picture Optimus, for he’d never seen an aroused Optimus with his own optics, nor did he ever touched the Prime’s burning frame when he was about to hit his true climax. He’d imagined and dreamed, but it went no further with a lack of data resources. Data resources like the berth that was lying right beside him now.

When he was finally tempted enough to turn back to his private show he was greeted by the click of Optimus’ interface panel and the perfect sight of the pressurized spike. It looked perfect, with the tricolour paint that matched its owner and the shiny biolights that lined up all the way to the slick tip. It looked perfect when it lined up to the dripping, pulsing, eager, tiny entrance of Soundwave, stroking the trembling fold, teasing and eventually, pushing.

Megatron could hear himself holding the breath with Soundwave. It must have hurt. It always hurt at first for Soundwave, who always had a taste for big frames and dominating strength. And it was always the best part, because the smaller, delicate spymaster would hiss in pain then use those tentacles of his to bind his own thighs to spread them wider, to restrain himself from escaping, submitting to his lover, trusting, giving. He could tell already that Optimus was thrilled at the breathtaking scene,too. The noise he made when he ex-vented at what Soundwave was doing was pure music to him. And Soundwave made this small whine that only popped out of his throat when the spike settling inside him was throbbing so hard it hurt him. For a moment, Megatron wasn’t so sure he wanted to hold Soundwave more, or to take his place, to become the one getting that perfect, throbbing spike inside himself. But his problem was instantly solved, because knowing his Lord best, Soundwave projected his senses into Megatron’s mind.

It wasn’t just the most beautiful spike he’d ever seen, but the most perfect spike he’d ever felt as well. He felt the phantom stretch in his valve as Soundwave was opened by Optimus inch by inch, with excessively unnecessary patience that almost felt too polite to his taste. But at the same time it felt so very Optimus that he almost laughed at it. Like an answer to his attempted mocking, Optimus’ EM field briefly expanded with sheer smugness. He was pretty positive it wasn’t meant for Soundwave, it was meant to brush his field in a teasing fashion and it was tingling, he dimmed his optics to let it pass. When he onlined his optics again from pure indulgence, he could finally examine the face of Optimus closely. The Prime was burning with heat just like his lovers, his facial expression was of endurance and patience, his optics dimmed by lust and his field radiating hunger. For the first time during all the time they’ve known each other, Optimus looked passionate and alive, like a god who was finally reincarnated into the form of a mortal, and at his own will.

He looked perfect. They both did. This beautiful show was worth a trillion rusty furnaces all over the Cybertron.

Every silent thought was broken into pieces when Optimus began moving. He started slow, trying to give Soundwave time while the latter mech panted breathlessly between soft whimpers. Then he went even slower, but deeper, touching the precious ceiling node every time he thrust into his lover. He knew what he really was doing, to the both of them. It was no easy job to frag two mechs with so different frame types at the same time. Megatron might like it rough like the warlord he was, and Soundwave might just let them, but the tapedeck was a delicate spy carrier-host full of unique microequipment pieces with a small, tight valve. He wouldn’t hurry, and Megatron understood this. The night was meant for Soundwave, it was his first date with them so they wanted to make it perfect. When Soundwave’s whimpers turned into whines, he finally sped up to satiate his telepathic lover who’d been caught up in this intense mind-fuck-sandwich for too long. A little bit heated up physical stimulation seemed to have finally drawn the tapedeck’s attention from the telepathic link he’d been trying to maintain. He reached one hand to Optimus almost dreamily, when all of a sudden those slim tentacles spontaneously stretched up to it like another life form and wrapped around his raising servo that was almost touching his lover, stranding it down to their side. It took Soundwave a few kliks between Optimus’ polite, fierce thrusts to realise what he was trying to do and why he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t touch Optimus from his side. That was the plan, the initial blueprint, the basement stone of their relationship, the first agreement.

An agreement Optimus disagreed with.

Upon his tentacle’s fast reaction, Optimus immediately reached for that hand and bent down to kiss it. He kissed every digit of his then moved his lips to the stranding tentacle to lick every inch of it. It made Soundwave a screaming mess with all his limbs, primary or secondary ones, all searching for anything to hold onto like a startled insecticon in his last breath, but only in vain since the only thing he could hold onto was Optimus. It was already too late when he realised it was all but a trap by Optimus to trick him into unwinding his tentacles for him and the Prime even began stroking them all the way from his sensitive back panel while slamming his spike into him hard and fast hitting his ceiling node every time. It was too much. He almost tried to climb out of Optimus’ reach on all fours but was quickly pinned back down into the berth by a servo that was now searching for more sensitive spots inside his chest compartment. With all hope lost he began weeping, for real this time. And he begged for Megatron’s help, hoping his other master could show some mercy.

“Please.” He plead, wishing his old lord would somehow still be able make out what he was trying to say from the telepathic link that was now completely chaos between their minds.

Megatron looked at him with an unpleasant, cold expression and Soundwave froze. Maybe his lord wasn’t so fond of letting Soundwave take Optimus first after all.

“He’s mine.” He said, and that alone, made Soudnwave’s spark sink.

But it turned out his lord was only bluffing, pulling out a small joke on him at the most inappropriate time, for he added soon afterwards, “But so are you.”

Soundwave almost burst into tears at those words, those promises that his lord eventually, finally, granted to him. When he finally raised his trembling hands to Optimus’ broad chasis he was already making these ridiculous, hiccuping noises from his throat that Optimus almost chuckled at him. His chuckle was broken into even more ridiculous moans from his own vocaliser for he now knew why Soundwave was this reluctant to touch him from his end. His promise from their first night at the bar about how his telepathic feeds could only be initiated by the one who initiated the touch, was actually, a lie. It was way more intense, way more aggressive when the telepath touched his frame and if his own exploration on Soundwave’s frame was a humbling stream, Soundwave was a destructive flood slamming right into his spark chamber. He almost lost all his senses when he was hit by the storm of Soundwave’s ever-so-suppressed emotions followed by Megatron’s thundering mind. For a brief moment he was so jealous of the two of them, to be able to have this all these years and all the time. He wanted it for himself and he would like it to stay inside him forever and hold onto it so tight to never let it go. He didn’t even realise how hard he was now pounding into Soundwave and making him scream as if all the politeness and preparation was for nothing. The telepath was now crying instead of weeping, if he was anywhere near his usual stoic self he would apologise to Optimus, for his lie about his telepathy, for denying him the truth for so long and for whatever misbehaviour he ever did in his life to deserve this pleasurable pain in the berth, but Optimus bit his lips and kissed him hard and kissed away his half-forming apology and all his other thoughts. He could taste it on his glossa in his own mouth that Optimus was asking, wanting, demanding more, for him to go louder and deeper. In his remotest sense he heard this life-saving sound that was Optimus’ own valve panel clicking open and all his free tentacles rushed to it like a group of hounds at the command of both his and Megatron’s minds. Two of them slid inside like it was home sweet home while other two were nibbling his outer node like two happily feasting turbofoxes and when the first tentacle went so deep it touched the ceiling node, Optimus screamed into his mouth with the strongest thrust and overloaded hard. It knocked Soundwave senseless he broadcast it all over his telepathic range, bringing himself to overload as well as Megatron. Primus bless them, there was no other Cybertronian lifeform in this old desert.

Megatron was the first one to come back to the world of the living. The first thing he realised was the small puddle of transfluid that was gathered on the floor, from his dripping, closed valve panel between his legs. Out of slim embarrassment, he frowned and looked away, to the other two in the now completely messy berth. Optimus was cuddling Soundwave in the way he only saw it once when the Prime was drunk at the bar, whispering sweet nothing into the telepath’s audials. His face was of true bliss, smiling, relaxing. And Soundwave, for once wasn’t actually listening to him. In fact he looked like he wasn’t listening to anything but the telepathic buzz in the air. His feelers were still buried inside Optimus’ valve and his own was still stuffed by Optimus’ spike but neither of them seemed bothered. They whispered to each other, murmuring quietly, as if they were plotting some sweet secret with each other. He watched them quietly from the chair he was sitting in beside their berth, feeling blessed by Primus himself with a kiss on the forehead, trying desperately to contain the aftershock that still stroked his spark with a certain divine rythme, when his spike panel suddenly flipped open on its own. It was loud, loud enough to draw everyone’s attention in this tiny room in the desert. Megatron sighed intensely with guilty relief, in the end, he couldn’t fight the pleasure like he thought he would even if it was only second-hand. The two of them would be the death of him one day.

The two in the berth spared no time. They reached for him, or more specifically, Optimus reached for him and Soundwave brushed his thigh with one of his free feelers. The telepath wasn’t in his right mind to control his feeler efficiently enough, it tangled his thigh and almost knocked him off his balance on its way back. He and Optimus both caught him from falling off the berth. They place the worn-out mech onto the ground, where he not-so-consciously began nibbling the transfluid dripping down Megatron’s thighs with great care, like a sparkling sipping on his energon candy. Seeing he was safe and content, the two leaders decided to take a brief break with a short conversation.

“Soundwave just old me private comms are the same as public broadcasting to him if not locked with special encryption.” Optimus said. “And he said you know it all along.”

“I might have forgotten for a while today.” Megatron grinned sheepishly, it would have been more annoying if he didn’t have his spike perfectly pressurized and on display. So he went for an excuse that sounded more, compromising. “Well, I did get the furnace working today didn’t I? So let it pass will you? It’s just a stupid mistake.”

“Must be a very difficult furnace.” Optimus whispered.

“Very difficult indeed.” Megatron agreed. “And working really well apparently, now that see the three of us are all perfectly warm and sound. Now if you’re not gonna do something involving interfacing and transfluids, then please excuse me because I have a personal problem here.”

“A big personal problem,” Optimus pointed out, “Very big.”

“Didn’t know you talk dirty.” Megatron commented.

“I didn’t.” Optimus managed a fake sigh and reached one servo for the root of their “big problem”, “But I took on your advice. No pretending in front of your decepticon lovers. Bring your worst self and stay faithful to it. Now tell me, what else do you enjoy.”

A full stroke on his spike made Megatron shiver, yet he still managed to answer with calm, “You think you can break me? You are really wild tonight.”

Not too surprisingly, the Prime didn’t carry on with his pickup line further.

 “No.” He whispered, kept on stroking the throbbing spike between his fingers, “I think I can please you.”

He was answered by a strange moment of silence. But Optimus could tell Megatron was happy with his answer, the transfluid that was dirtying his already filthy digits even more spoke no lies, and Soundwave was even happier to lick more of it on his lord’s thighs.

Megatron answered eventually like he was holding a breath. His voice hoarse and his face lustful.

“I’d say, let’s see what you can do.”

Then he pulled down his Prime for the longest, hottest, breathless kiss he’d ever had or even imagined in his entire functioning. The heat on their tangling glossa was dripping, moving along like it was alive, travelled all over his energon veins and all the way down to his already slick, burning, well-prepared interface equipment. Beneath their feet Soundwave moaned again, choking on the transfluid he was dreamily licking out of ambiguous coherence. Poor thing wasn’t given a break since the beginning of the night due to his Primus-blessed ability. Above him the two leaders deepened their kiss like two fighting beasts, breathing into each others’ vents with Optimus’ servos now both stroking Megatron’s spike like his life depended on it and Megatron’s own servos eagerly searching for Optimus’ interface equipment, when he found it, he used one servo to stroke his pressurized-again spike and the other servo found the entrance well-prepared and lubricated by Soundwave and dipped all three digits in.

Optimus briefly broke their kiss to scream but was pulled back immediately, melted back into it and blessed by it. He could feel Megatron was close. It was only his second overload tonight and the first real stimulation that was directly physical. The massive spike throbbed and shivered and trembled in his servos when Optimus suddenly broke their contact and grabbed him by the shoulder, slammed him right into the messy berth beside them. Megatrons’ optics went wide when he realised he was tricked by the same trick again and now that he was lying in the berth on his back at the Prime’s mercy, he raised his helm right in time to catch the his widest dream come true. Optimus knelt between his legs, bent down his helm and swallowed his spike all the way down into his throat at full length.

He screamed. He was so close. All he needed was just a suck, a touch, a lick, somewhere, anywhere and he could be in heaven. But in reality, what he was getting was a heavy Prime who was pinning down his kicking thighs while licking his painfully hard spike with the inside of his throat at the slowest speed, dominating him, and a literally fragged-up Soundwave licking the dripping-like-crazy transfluid on his now oversensitive thighs, submitting to him. It felt so good, like some prolonged, sweet torture on every part of his body in every sense. Out of the confusion about wanting his long-due overload to arrive as soon as possible and wanting his torture to never end, he closed his eyes to indulge his moment. Yet as soon as he turned his sight off completely, all of a sudden, it all stopped. The licking glossa on his thighs and spike left without warning.

Soundwave came to his true senses realising he was picked up and being lifted onto his lord’s fully-pressurized, burning spike by Optimus. He started panicking in no time but it was already too late. His well-stretched, lubricated valve swallowed the huge mass inside with no true resistance of any form. Before he knew it, he landed on Megatron’s now completely sticky, messy stomach plating with wide spread thighs. He wept again, confused, panicking, not sure what was going on and now without any way to back down anymore as well. His brilliant processor ran as fast as he could but still he couldn’t understand why he was put in this state at all. He was supposed to be a show. His lord said he wanted a show and Optimus said they should give him it. He did his best, had his fair share of overload, pleased Optimus and his lord. He was supposed to be resting now, sitting beside the berth, accelerating the two leaders’ pleasure with his telepathy while they frag each others’ processor out, not caught between them, taking Megatron’s spike in Optimus’ place or the other way round. Not at all. His field was screaming his panicking state right across their firewalls, it only got much worse when he saw the surprised look in Megatron’s optics so obviously his lord wasn’t approving this either. He tried to stand up, but Optimus pushed him back down, murmuring something like it’s ok but he wasn’t gonna buy any of it.

Then he bought it.

The surprise in Megatron’s optics turned into pure lust and ecstasy and in less than a nanoklik’s time he was slammed into the berth again on his back with his lord rutting into him from the above.

The pure happiness bled into his mind, he was eventually convinced, it was ok. Megatron was as thrilled to spike him as to spike Optimus. His sweet relief dissolved into something else, something deeper, even deeper than the lengthy spike inside his valve. He felt like he was being warmed up from inside, the warmth started from his spark chamber and spread to every part of him, heating up his cold limbs and the tip of his pedes. When he finally collected himself enough to read into the noisy buzz that was their now three-way telepathic link he heard Megatron secretly imaging how his spike was rutting into Soundwave’s stomach when it was so full of Optimus’ transfluid, making all those shameful noise, stirring it from inside, mixing their fluids together and filling him up with more when he overloads. It tempted Soundwave to put one servo on his own, swollen stomach and pressed it when that lump beneath came under his palm. Megatron hissed like a startled snake and it was painful, but Soundwave couldn’t hide a silent chuckle, it was worth it.

Their interface was brought to a whole new level of intensity when Optimus decided to lick Megatron’s back. He took his time to admire his lover and ex-enemy from behind, secretly took a few shots of how the coolant was dripping with his own transfluid on Megatron’s broad, silver, sexy back. He carefully licked the dripping seam of his valve pane. He heard Megatron moaned, and opened his panel almost instantly. His valve was a mess, even his spike was neater when it popped out of the panel compared with his valve. Soundwave was an orgy master who didn’t know it himself. It burned his spark with arousal just to think how he and Soundwave did this to Megatron.

Optimus rubbed the full length of his spike on the slick fold and received a choking moan. He looked down and felt like he could overload from the sight of how Megatron stiffed his back and shoulders alone. Ever the helping hand, Soundwave silently guided him into Megatron’s mind, showing him all the dark, filthy things his lord was imaging he could do to him. And Megatron’s mind was a thunderstorm, much like the way he saw him when he dived into Soundwave’s processor. His affection was shouting , his admiration was screaming and his desire was howling, his begging on the other servo, was soft.

Do you love me? He asked, with uncharacteristic uncertainty. Will you really be mine?

He answered yes, he bent down to kiss that sexy back worshipfully, when he finally pushed all the way in.

He was greeted by the squirming inside of Megatron’s valve that was a battlefield to eat him alive. It was impossible to not overload instantly but he managed to hold it for a bit longer, wanting to enjoy this for a bit longer, but not too long. He could tell that Megatron was already on the edge. When he felt the inner calibers tighten like crazy he thrust hard, hitting the precious ceiling node and pulled out, when Megatron overloaded into Soundwave screaming, he spread his own overload all over that now completely still, straightened up, perfect, silver back. It went dripping between Megatron’s strong, silver thighs that Soundwave polished so shiny with his glossa, all the way to his swallowing valve. It almost got him hot again to watch how his shivering folds eagerly swallowed. It was perfect.

Having the both of them to crush onto Soundwave was a terrible idea, so Megatron lifted his TIC aside before he crushed on his front into the filthy berth himself. The usually square and box-y tapedeck silently lied beside him, holding a swollen, slightly round stomach, he whimpered softly when his tormented entrance was finally released, letting the transfluid inside to flow out freely. He and Megatron both had a big tank proportional to their size, so it was taking a while. Megatron casually stroked Soundwave’s stomach to ease his pain, and the latter mech hissed gratefully. Megatron was well-spread on all fours, his limbs relaxing, his back and shoulders rose and fell with his still revved up engines and his thick, silver thighs still wide open. The warlord turned his helm to frown at him.

“My thighs are gorgeous and deadly.” He announced. “So shut the frag up.”

“I’m not saying anything.” Optimus smiled.

“Shut up.” Megatron announced again, “And lie down here already.”

For the first time in his entire functioning, Optimus obeyed a Decepticon and couldn’t be happier. He squeezed himself between Soundwave and Megatron even if there wasn’t much space left. Soundwave nudged his shoulder with his own forehead liked a private greeting. And Megatron, Megatron never spelt the world “subtle”once in his entire life and never will. He slammed his one arm around Optimus’ neck with strangling force and the other one grabbing Soundwave by his shoulder, then demanded the two of them to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be back.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: discussion of unsafe sex. But basically just a joke.

Like every of their bizarre, ridiculous, messy encounters there had always been a legendary downfall the next day however a good time they had earlier. Optimus woke up with one thought and one though only stuck in his mind and it wasn’t about the transfluids covering every piece of him.

Is it listed among former disposable class cultures that one should transform into his alt-mode during recharge?

He woke up cuddling a gun and a cassette player, unsure how did he end up enjoying the enormous private berth space being the only one still in his gigantic robot mode. For the first time, the multifunctional blue cassette player wasn’t playing his beloved morning tune to wake him up. Judging by the quieter quietness of this beloved tiny box, the cassette player wasn’t gonna wake up anytime soon himself.

Somehow he could tell Megatron had been awake for a long time already even in his gun mode. He greeted his fellow leader with a friendly pat on his head, or whatever part his gun barrel was supposed to be. And as a response, Megatron transformed, landed in their shared berth with a grumpy look on his face. Once he was in his robot mode again, it wasn’t hard to tell how badly in need of a good shower they all deserve.

But first thing first he needed to fix Megatron’s morning mood.

“What unforgivable wrongness did I do to you during our recharge?” He asked, trying to sound sincere with his still sore vocalizer.

“Do you know you’re twice the hug bear you are during recharge than you were during your overcharge?” Megatron crossed his arms and eyed him skeptically.

Optimus blinked twice before admitting to him. “Well, I’ve never been told.”

“Good.” Megatron praised, “I’m now officially the first mech to deliver you this very important information and you better take it to your spark. ‘Case if you don’t, I might develop a habit of shooting around during recharge, too.”

“Note taken.” Optimus agreed with a yawn. “Now which of us get to wake up Soundwave? Is he usually as grumpy as you in the morning?”

“He’s awake since you first spoke.” Megatron yawned along, “He’s remembering last night and with that best memory bank on Cybertron of his. Now he’s too embarrassed to transform to his root mode.”

Optimus sighed happily and decided to give the poor spy his moment. He gestured the washrack to let Megatron take the first turn. Later when they both finished cleaning themselves they carried the silent cassette player in there and locked the door behind him, later when the water noise stopped Optimus walked in and collected the now well-polished blue box.

They headed home on Optimus’ back, Megatron sitting on the edge with his box for a TIC that was remarkably well-used from last night on his knees. He himself was sore everywhere, and judging by the way Optimus’ tires rolled, the truck former was also having his fair share of soreness. What a tragedy they still had to make it back in time for their very important job positions. Half of the Iacon city wasn’t even awake yet.

His Prime’s suffering tires seemed to put the ex-warlord in a lovely mood today and he felt like sharing with his personal music box.

“You have been entirely too cute recently, I’m actually getting concerned.” He amused.

The box made a soft bubble popping sound at him. One of his weird collections from earth.

“Come on. It wasn’t that bad.” Megatron cheered, “Told you I won’t be the only mech who appreciate your tentacles in the berth. And you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. One day we’re gonna get you display them all the time, so we can grab one whenever we want.”

This time Soundwave made a beeping noise at him.

“OK, alright.” Megatron somehow agreed with whatever he meant by that, “Take your time and sulk. I’m not saying you can’t. You know what? Get Thundercracker to run your errands today and sit in your chair playing square radio box for the day, I won’t judge.”

After a silent moment, the cassette player made a weak winding sound with his tape rollers.

“There’s no need to apologise.” Megatron patted his buttons with a sigh, “You see, that’s where you got it wrong. I’m not sharing Optimus with you, not allowing you to have him for a while so that you can thank me later or something like that. The point is, he’s not mine, and never will be, however he thinks otherwise and tried to prove it, he’s the Prime of the Autobots and I’m the leader of the Decepticons. We gotta live up to the titles. While, at the same time, you’re already mine, you’ve been mine for millions of years and everyone knows it. So I’m not sharing him with you, I’m sharing you with him. I’m the one who should apologise for not asking under proper circumstances.”

The cassette player gently nudged his pause button at his thumb.

The truck former however, broke into their conversation with a hooting from his brilliant horns.

“I have the feeling that you’re speaking low of me behind my back.” He commented.

“Of course, why do you think we hop on your back to begin with?” The gun former replied loudly, “Now do your job, Porter Prime. We’re carrying confidential information here. You’d better get us back home safe and sound.”

Yet suddenly, a strange, cool feeling on his fingers made him pause. He looked down at his hand covering Soundwave’s button panel and made sure he wasn’t dreaming. The buttons were leaking on him.

“Change of plan,” he replied again, “You’d better get us to drop by Ratchet’s place first.”

 

Optimus could swear he hadn’t seen Ratchet being this worried when he walked out of Soundwave’s room.

Before he could ask, the medic opened his mouth first, only to close it again, then opened it again, then closed again. It took him ten solid kliks to finally pop words at his old friend.

“Do you,” he looked deadly serious, “have a feeding kink or something?”

That was so not what Optimus was expecting. He widened his optics at Ratchet and denied with no hesitation.

“What? No.” 

Then he took a second thought and pulled the scene of Megatron gently stroking Soundwave’s plating out of his recent memory, then he was no longer so sure about it. It was something cute and adorable he would definitely love to see happen again. But generally speaking he was not gonna change his answer at all.

Ratchet did not seemed convinced but somehow pushed no further. He cleared his throat and put on his “serious medic talk” face”.

“Listen, I’m in no position to tell you what to do what not to do with your berth partners in your berth. You are old as fossils and I’m older than most fossils, it’s gonna be very embarrassing if I do give you the talk. But, here is the But.” He paused and took in a long, deep suck of cool air into his vents, “Have you heard of the phrase ‘safe word’? If you haven’t, you gotta look it up. Look it up now, it won’t take long. It’s important. I can explain its medical use to you here if you’d like to ask some questions. Trust me, it’s mutually beneficial.”

Ratchet was trying to sound convincing, and he did sound very convincing. However the mental images about Ratchet’s partying youth legends were disturbingly vivid in Optimus’ processor now he couldn’t resist calling it to a full stop immediately so he did.

“Please.” He begged, “Just tell me what’s wrong and if he’s gonna be ok.”

“The second question first. Yes, he will be OK.” Ratchet still looked rather concerned, “Something torn from inside the patches I put up for his internal leaks that night you two got him drunk. It’s annoying but no where near what we used to get on the battlefield so he’ll live, be back up kicking in no time. But I gotta say, as a medic I need to know what kept tearing him up.”

Optimus felt his face began burning. He let out a weak protest. “Please don’t.”

The ambulance former deadpanned, not even slightly backing down. He crossed his arms to show he was waiting for his answer. Seeing his fate of being the most embarrassed mech on Cybertron today and possibly dragging his medic friend as the second most embarrassed one, Optimus’ processor began composing a report about what happened last night avoiding as many interfacing-related synonyms as possible, when another voice cut in from behind him.

“Your clinic has been breaking the code of confidentiality at remarkable rate these days. I assume it’s purely coincidental.” Megatron slowly walked in with two cubes of breakfast hot energon in his servos. “I’ve been told I have a habit of entering inappropriate space at the worst timing. What do you say?”

Ratchet frowned at him. “I say whoever told you this, was a brilliant mech. Observant, intelligent and I might say, admirably brave. I hope he’s still alive.”

“Starscream will be thrilled to hear you speak so highly of him.” The ex-warlord smirked before putting down one cube on the desk beside him but still holding one. “And he’s perfectly alive as well, much to my dismay. My TIC has been giving you great trouble recently, so maybe I should send my SIC on this mission to fulfill your request, you can personally make sure he stays alive.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Ratchet unsurprisingly turned him down, “But I have a strict No Seeker policy here.”

“Brilliant.” Megatron sipped into his cube before commenting with fake cheerfulness, “I want to have the same house rule on Nemesis too. I should get my Communications Officer to put it into action as soon as possible. By the way, when will he be available?”

Ratchet rolled his optics then gestured to the door before giving Optimus a “watching you” look and leaving for the next room.

As soon as his poor old friend who seemed to have recently developed concerns about his interface preference went of sight, Optimus took the smoking cube Megatron left on the desk and took a long, comforting sip.

“He’s now under some misunderstanding.” When he finally let go of the cube, Optimus commented worriedly.

“Of course he is.” Megatron rolled his optics, sipping into his own cube as well, “If he’s the gossiping type, I bet you will hear tales being told around about your gigantic killer spike by today’s sunset.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Optimus sighed into his cube, causing white smoke to cover his optics, “I mean he’s probably under the impression that you mistreat your subordinates and enemies alike, showing absolutely no care for whoever followed you into the war or the recent peace. And I see he’s certainly no the only one.”

“And ain’t that just common concept?” Megatron hummed at him, “Quite accurate actually.”

“I see you are under misunderstanding about yourself too.” Optimus shrugged, “I wonder why.”

“Quit speaking nonsense.” Megatron took his cube out of his servo, “I didn’t say this one’s for you. Leave some for Soundwave.”

Seeing Megatron was quick to prove his point, Optimus shrugged with a smile. They walked toward the door to Soundwave’s berthroom.

“Ratchet doesn’t recommend too much consumption.” He noted.

“Said the mech who just finished half the cube.” Megatron commented.

They were greeted by a well-stretched, exhausted Soundwave in his robot form. The tapedeck tried to wave at them, but failed. So he flashed his visor briefly instead as a greeting.

Megatron put down the cube on the small table beside the berth. As Optimus was expecting Soundwave to uncover his face now, Soundwave opened his back panel instead. A sneaky tentacle raised to the table, dipped into the cube and began sucking into it.

Optimus couldn’t hide a chuckle. The entire Autobot Spec Op used to wonder how Soundwave get everything done so fast and efficiently. Maybe this is how. When no one was around, the Decepticon Communications Officer and TIC would use two tentacles to sort out datapads on the shelf, two tentacles on the operating table repairing devices, one tentacle plugged into the consoles downloading, his two servos typing codes, and the last tentacle dipping into a large cube of fuel.

Soundwave flashed his visor at Optimus intensely as if he heard what he was thinking. He probably did.

“Still not in the mood to talk?” Megatron teased.

It took Soundwave forever to crack his vocalizer. However, what he began with was even more unexpected than Ratchet’s speech of safe sex.

“Jazz.” He said, “Jazz just sent me a comm.”

Optimus raised his chin to show him he’s listening. Megatron however, sippied into his own tube rather uninterested.

“He said.” Soundwave swallowed, “Video footage of how you two left the city with me yesterday went viral overnight in my absence. Then the decepticon guards saw us returned and went directly for the clinic. It went viral as well during my short surgery.”

“The betting pool is,” he continued, “getting a bit out of servo now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a domment.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad morning of Ratchet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad English. Attempted humour.  
> I know noting about tax. Or gambling. Or investment. Or generally how laws work.

Ever since he took the Matrix of Leadership, Optimus had never imagined that as a Prime, he would one day, become the spotlight of his people’s gossips. It wasn’t by any means unpredictable, he should totally have foreseen this, the fact that he didn’t was just another proof that his mind was still stuck in the war time.

Alternatively, the fact that he was dating the deadliest information manipulator in all history also provided a blind spot for his sight of Primacy. A blind spot he manually removed last night by fragging Soundwave’s processor out. Now he was stuck in some hot slag for his bold actions. Prowl was gonna throw a letter of resignation the moment he walked into the Council Hall.

And to add up to it, Megatron wasn’t even slightly sympathetic.

“Who was the mech that mentioned two decacycles ago, that current Cybertronian residents are not actively participating in promoting currency circulation hence it’s not good to help re-establish new banking system and totally unhealthy for economic growth.” The decepticon leader mocked coldly after hearing Soundwave’s summary of the current situation, totally unimpressed by the enormous amount of shanix being mentioned as Optimus was.

“Gambling is nowhere near the healthy way of consumption.” Optimus pointed it out for him.

Megatron murmured something about the Middle Class in Kaon slang, he finished signing Soundwave’s medical discharge form as he spoke.

“Then ban it. A brief description in the law, all the money goes back to its old pocket. No harm done.”

“We can’t ban something just because there’s a particular case that went south for us.” Optimus disagreed, “Technically speaking, it’s called tyranny.”

“Haven’t you heard, tyranny is my middle name.” Megatron hummed, then paused, frowned, “Do you mean you actually want to use it?”

It took Optimus sometime to admit, obviously he wasn’t proud of himself. “To some extent, yes.”

“Now we are talking.” Megatron grinned. He turned for Soundwave, who’d been listening to something in his sophisticated multi-channels all this time, “Soundwave, do you have any suggestion?”

“Video manuscript:now in hold. Pool access:acquired. Operation: standby.” Soundwave monotoned. “Actions: operable.”

“Good work.” Megatron nodded the tilted his chin at Optimus, “We have approximately a cycle before we must go to work.”

“How well can you access the pool’s backstage accounts without being noticed.” Optimus questioned.

“Backstage: freely accessible. Main operator: already aware of Soundwave’s actions.” The information specialist continued without paying attention to Optimus’ frown, “Main operator: compromised.” 

“Let me guess. It’s Jazz. He tricked Prowl into believing it’s someone else’ doing and bribed you from the beginning to let it pass.” Optimus pinched his forehead, “Now seeing the situation is getting out of control, he turned himself in, through you, to me, so that he doesn’t have to deal with my rage in person.”

“Correct.”

Megatron let out a short laugh which he quickly covered his mouth to stop but didn’t really make much of a difference. Optimus was already in a mood.

“Is he listening to us?” The Prime asked.

“Hacking attempts: detected. However, Surveillance: guarded by Soundwave.”

“Thank you.” Optimus sighed deeply, “And please tell him to go back to work. I won’t be too angry, if he can manage to keep that Resignation Letter, which Prowl must be writing with his shed fury at the moment, from being delivered to my office today, as well as providing ultimate, unquestionable assistance in helping us, managing his pool in the indefinite future from now, without asking for pay back of any kind, in any form. Otherwise I may become so angry, I might make it legitimate that all music copies imported from Earth in both disc and electronic forms, are illegal and should be destroyed on sight.”

“Information delivered.” Soundwave replied after a silent moment.

“Tyranny?” Megatron grinned.

“You are a terrible influence on any Cybertronian.” Optimus sat down with a deep sigh.

“Oh don’t worry, every Cybertronian is a tyrant when they can.” The ex-tyrant amused, “Now since we can’t ban gambling as a whole, how about we revise the definition of gambling instead. I’m not a gambler myself but with this broken society, zero stability whatsoever? Well I agree high risk investment like this isn’t good for us if everyone just got this obsessed.”

“Good point but still too much of a clean cut.” Optimus replied as he was still drowned in his frustration, “I’m thinking about legalities of payment methods. If we make certain payment options invalid, like the way we did for investment payment.”

“Oh don’t you remember how the new investment regulations pissed off almost everyone?” Megatron disagreed, “Payment preference is, and has always been faction-related. Decepticons have no habit of banking, ever. The remarkable population of bounty hunters among the neutrals made them go underground overnight once your esteemed regulations got out. Autobots officially conquered the governmental economic management overnight.”

“Which is why we are still discussing revisions of the Regulations every time we meet.” Optimus deadpanned, “Anyhow I doubt the betters were using anything complicated or paying enough to invest in real estate business. It won’t be faction-related.”

“As you just point out yourself they weren’t using anything more complicated than down straight cash then how do we revise the situation by invalidating any payment option?”

Optimus dimmed his optics and sank into the sofa. “I don’t know. I’m not thinking straight. As far as I can tell, the betting preference itself is already faction-related. The number of decepticons participated in the pool is 34% more than the autobots participants. And the people who bet on MegOp? Four times of the Optiwave supporters. Almost all autobots are on this side by the way. It’s gonna end up as a treasury re-distribution between two factions if we don’t manage it well.”

“Did you just quote the abbreviations they made up for us?” Megatron shook his helm, “You really aren’t thinking straight. Must be the interface last night.”

“Neither are you I might say, interface is the cause or not.” Optimus pointed out. “The cube you’re holding is empty for a solid joor and you’re still not putting it down.”

Megatron put down the cube with an angry growl.

“Permission to speak.” Soundwave cut in abruptly.

“Permission granted.” Both leaders replied before gazing into each other’s face.

However, Soundwave wasn’t bothered by the confusion of commanding rank at the moment, he simply continued.

 “The betting pool can be invalidated as a whole without law interference.”

It clearly drew attention from both leaders. The unnerving attention caused the tapedeck to pause, swallowed hard before clearing his throat and started again with a lower voice as if he was too nervous to speak out loud.

“A betting pool with only two options is a narrow playground in reality’s broader layout. If the winning condition is considered unachievable due to circumstances out of the agreed terms, the pool will be closed and participants refunded except for the information processing fees.” 

Silence filled the room. It was early in the morning. They were in Iacon, the only inhabited city on Cybertron. It was quiet, only half a joor before most people go to work.

“Well,” Megatron began, “I say we really weren’t thinking straight.” Then he added, “Good work pointing out for us that our whole discussion was pointless from the beginning, Soundwave. And please, do take out the ‘if’ part out of the sentence next time you speak of it, for me at least ”

The tapedeck nodded.

“Enlighten me about the information processing fees you just mentioned.” Optimus however, found his attention being caught by something else.

“It’s required that 3% of betting money of every transaction will be left within the pool as membership fees. The pool owner announced it as future expenses for possible investigations regarding the winning condition.” Soundwave explained, “The pool owner, was generally believed to have remarkable expertise in such special field.”

Optimus nodded to himself, “Well, as the betting itself might find it lacking winning condition in near future, the transactions however, still considered as tax eligible. In that case I indeed, find it the more the merrier. I will personally thank Jazz for his remarkable attribute as a tax payer.”

“Reminder delivered.” Soundwave assured. Then the Prime went silent, as if waiting for the two decepticons to speak their opinions.

“Can’t believe one day I’m helping the autobots collecting tax from our people, not the other way round.” Megatron murmured to himself, examining the cube he just put down again. “But yes, from my point of view, your Council is holding too little money to run as an authority for its people.”

“Ongoing reconstruction plans: 21.” Soundwave looked up on his visual display, “Suspended: 14. Public feedback: 89% in form as complaints pushing for further actions.”

“Thank you Soundwave.” Optimus said.“And if you don’t mind me asking, what do the decepticons run on these days?” 

“Loyalty and distrust in the Autobots.” Megatron amused, “And a few conquered planets from across the galaxy.”

“A few planets which you will hand in to the Council in due time,” Optimus pointed out, “so that you can have the Council to back you up as we merge our systems, in due time.”

Megatron hummed to the empty cube, pretending to be disagreeing. “It’s quite some big money in that pool. But not that big.”

“Witness of related events: entertaining. Public guidance: sufficient.” Soundwave pushed in the right direction, “Proof: boosted bar consumption during the night of courtship announcement. Pre-ordered tickets: popular.”

And people seemed to have forgotten to ask who exactly was pre-selling those tickets. However sneaky Jazz ever was, Soundwave could always get down nastier. Both spies seemed to have realised their people’s yearning for entertainment before anyone else took notice and decided to make a fortune out of it. Only that Soundwave kinda ended up selling himself into the mess in a discount bundle.

“OK,” Megatron quickly concluded as if trying to cover the embarrassing memory of that particular night, consequently covering Soundwave’s questionable deeds along. “Consider us in. Promote currency exchange and nothing more. Now what?”

“Now we find an inside man who can join the pool without rising any suspicions but looks like the gold mine if someone aims to dig for more gossip.” Optimus claimed.

The three of them all turned their helms to the fourth mech in the room.

Ratchet, who had been in this room listening to their conversation this whole time while staying perfectly silent, stirred his spoon in his now lukewarm breakfast fuel.

“This is not how I want to start my morning.” His face perfectly expressionless, “A conversation started from legal state of gambling activities, to investments regulations, to faction preferences, to tax payments, then to the reconstruction of this goddamn planet and now to what, espionage service? Am I supposed to hear all of this? I’m I getting into trouble for hearing all of this? Will I be in prison by the end of the day? Tell me, is there still enough time to nominate a heir who can run this clinic after my deactivation?”

Then he particularly pointed to Soundwave with his dripping spoon, “And are you even supposed to know all those statistic numbers as the decepticon commander who only serves within the decepticon base?”

“Outliers are exempted from convictions when the breach proves to involve their special abilities.” Soundwave monotoned. “When they weren’t in condition to control it.” Ratchet snapped, “With a written proof from a registered medic.”

Megatron walked ahead and patted his shoulder with fake sympathy. “Exactly. Which is why you’re a framed medic now. Welcome to the crowd. Don’t worry too much about it, framing mechs is just Soundwave’s thing. The decepticons logo isn’t designed from his face for nothing.”

Ratchet the chief medic officer of autobots angrily turned for his only ally in the room with his threatening spoon in hand.

“Tell me something nice or this spoon will be the last thing you see.”

“We can re-open the medical centre if this goes well.” Optimus offered with illegally wide blue optics. “And the old theatre you used to love.”

The medic took a long, meaningful look at his oldest friend for a troublesome Prime.

“The medical centre first.” Ratchet put his spoon back into the cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the social science part is amusing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad English. Bad humour. No beta.   
> Same old always.

Somehow all this mess resulted in Optimus saving Jazz from being strangled to deactivation by Prowl.

“No.” Prowl firmly refused his interference, “You have to let me do this.” 

“No you have to stop.” Optimus persuaded.

The sorrowful voices, the desperation on their faces, the twitch of Prowl’s doorwings and the reflection on Optimus’ front windows, made this ridiculous soon-to-be murder scene looked like a full display of a heroically tragedy.

“He broke 72 laws over one night!” Prowl pledged with furious tears filling his optics, his digits gripping the choking former autobot spy’s fragile neck, firm and tight, a perfect portray of a righteous law enforcer, and his fearless fist of justice, unhesitating even when it had to lay down to his own kin.

The police car looked at his Prime in seek of his agreement.

“Yes he did.” Optimus agreed patiently.

“He ruined your reputation and proves to be a great threat to our ongoing peace!”

“That too.” Optimus agreed.

“When you are practically the only mech with a relatively decent reputation on this entire planet!”

“Truly a tragedy.” Optimus deadpanned understandingly.

“So please give me a reason not to kill this mech right here and now.” The police car demanded. “And, your excessive, overdosing, charismatic forgiveness, will not be affecting my judgement today!”

“I’m sure it won’t.” Optimus nodded, “I’m protecting him from immediate law sentences merely because he is by far our richest sponsor to the Council.”

Prowl paused his strangling servos, optics wide. And Jazz flipped his optics upward at him, looking like he’s already on his way joining the Allspark.

“He what?” Despite his former partner’s dangerous condition, the police car asked.

Optimus calmly pulled out a visual display of the Council’s Treasury status. Then he pulled out the account status of Jazz’ private pool. It takes a fool to not notice which one shows more zeros following those sinful numbers.

Prowl inhaled sharply and gently lowered his former partner into the office chair next to him.

Once out of the deadly grip, Jazz popped a mouthful of energon onto his former partner’s servo, the latter mech however, was too shocked to pay attention.

“Did he sign the Agreement yet?” He asked dreamily.

“Yes and that’s why I’m here for him. We have yet to discuss on the timeline of future procedures.” Optimus lied, “And now please allow me to bring him to Ratchet. I fear that Ratchet may conduct unspeakable crimes on him if not supervised by myself.” Seeing Prowl’s hesitance, he added, “And I believe Ultra Magnus can use some sympathy to calm down too. You both have critical work scheduled today.”

The police car finally nodded in agreement and left the room.

The only reason Jazz was saved from the servo of Ratchet that day, however, was the medic’s status as a framed mech. Not because of Optimus’ wide blue optics, totally not because of those Primus-forbidden optics.

“Are you gonna play sleeping beauty for the rest of the day or am I supposed to help you become one permanently?” Ratchet asked.

Jazz raised one optic behind his visor. “Am I safe now?”

“I guess yes.” Optimus amused.

The former spy almost bounced up in the berth, no longer in his faked critical state.

“See,” he smirked proudly, “that’s another mission perfectly accomplished for my dear bossbot.”

“Yet another mission that almost cost your life.” Optimus poured him a cube of fuel, “And just like the old days, I’ve again come to rescue.”

Jazz whined between his sips, “Oh come on, I managed just fine by myself.”

“Do you want me to call Prowl back to prove your point?”

Hearing this particular announcement, Jazz made a zipping gesture on his own lips then muted himself with that cube of fuel Optimus offered. When he finished it he secretly raised an optic behind his visor.

“Does it mean you are not mad at me any more?” The former spy plead pitifully behind his empty cube. But knowing him, Optimus could tell he was smirking behind it.

“Somewhat a yes.” The Prime offered a datapad, it said Sponsorship Agreement on it’s title line with bold letters, “But with conditions, conditions you technically already agreed to just a breem ago by Prowl’s witness.”

Jazz dropped his shoulders also with a sigh, “Well, worth a try anyway.” He took the latter datapad and signed swiftly, “The decepticons are really rubbing off on you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you guys about it.”

Optimus took the signed datapad with one servo and stuffed it into his subspace. “I’ve recently realised that’s not really as bad as it sounds.”

Jazz giggled with a hiss, his neck wasn’t gonna heal too soon yet.

“Has anyone mentioned the betting pools about Megatron’s spike size and Soundwave’s optics colour yet? How about an extra deal, just two pictures, we can use the money to buy a basketball playground in the CBD!”

The Prime gently hit his big-mouthed SIC’s forehead with his knuckle. It’s a fake warning, but effective nontheless.

“I begin to wonder if it is every SIC’s duty to make his leader’s life miserable.” He sighed. “Maybe I should consider Prowl’s offer.”

“That will make this whole case a financial fraud if you do.” The white sports car protested smugly. “I’m totally calling my lawyer.”

“I’d be impressed if you actually can find a lawyer on Cybertron now.” Optimus sighed in amusement.

“Come on we have Ultra Magnus! He’s close enough!”

“Leave poor Magnus alone. Everyone is already traumatized by witnessing him weeping in the cafe this morning.”

 

A few solar cycles later, Optimus was informed by Jazz that Ratchet, upon his arrival into the pool as planned, bet his fair share of shanix on Optiwave instantly, which was considered an extremely shocking event to the immense group of participants and consequently led to a number rise in supporters on this pair’s side.

When Optimus gladly delivered this piece of information to his decepticon lovers, Megatron laughed loudly through their comm, he was genuinely amused.

“I thought your medic hates Soundwave!”

“He was the one who told me to bring blue flowers to Soundwave.”

“So he’s actually a very romantic bot.”

“Oh.” Optimus smirked realising Megatron probably didn’t know a thing about Ratchet’s history, “You don’t know half about it.”

“Wanna give me some insight?” Megatron flirted along.

Optimus was about to mention a thing or two when Soundwave cut in with his characteristic monotone.

“Number of participants: a rise by 7.3%. Majority of new gamers: neutrals.” The former spy confirmed, “Jazz’ advertising activity toward Neutrals: proves to be effective.”

“Good to hear.” Megatron hummed, “The neutrals are the richest anyway. I told you we should go for their afts. Glad to know I do have a fellow among your dumb ranks.”

“My officers aren’t dumb.” Optimus protested, “And I never said I disagree with you about approaching neutrals for financial aid. Stop twisting my words.”

“Financial aid.” Megatron repeated sarcastically.

“And stop repeating it too.” Optimus sighed, “Actually Ratchet’s participation did get us a potential sponsor from the pool.”

“A neutral sponsor you mean.”

“Yes.” The Prime agreed, “The one who recently opened a restaurant in Northeast Iacon, between the autobots’ resident area and decepticon ship lodges.”

“Quite some news when it opened.” Megatron agreed, “Brave mech to choose this gun zone to run a business I’ll give him that. But if we can find something both autobots and decepticons hate? Nobles. And he’s exactly that. Heard he’s closing down soon.”

“Well,” Optimus paused a klik, “he sent me an invitation with a reservation card for a table for two.”

It took Megatron a moment to understand the situation. And before he could say that awkward word, his SIC did it for him.

“Advertisement.” The former spy monotoned. “Query: Who are you bringing?”

“I don’t want to judge before even meeting someone.” Optimus pinched his forehead, “But, I don’t trust him enough to let him become a sponsor just yet. I want to figure out his intentions.”

Megatron wasn’t being difficult this time, “Then it’s his choice.”

“I’ll go.” Soundwave agreed.

 

The restaurant, despite it being on its way to bankrupt, looked fantastic. Which was probably why it was on its way to being shut down in first place, it’s too fancy to either autobots’ or decepticons’ liking. The autobots, being known as the pacifists themselves, love warm colors, neat curves and civilian’s decorations. The decepticons, being the infamous conquerors and wrathful avengers, like things with clean cut, wild shapes, and a display of cruelness. Neither of them will appreciate this luxurious palace for a eatery located between two districts of recently retired warriors.

To begin with, the menu was written in a Cybertronian language dated from a thousand million years ago, a dialect specifically considered as fashionable by the nobles right before the war began. And even to someone who has a private backup of all Cybertronian history of all time called the Matrix, it was still barely comprehensive.

Noticing his lover’s dilemma, Soundwave secretly sent in a copy of translated version into Optimus’ internal data downloader to help him out of it.

“How did you learn it.” Optimus whispered behind the lit candle, trying to hide his blush in the dim light of its glow.

“Knowledge: required by undercover mission in the past.” Soundwave lowered his menu. Face and optics still covered by mask and visor, and his voice filtered by the vocoder.

Optimus felt his spark softened.

“You could have said no.” He murmured, almost to himself, “I know you still find it difficult to reveal yourself in public with even only decepticons present. Let alone in a noble restaurant like this.”

“Mission: important.” Soundwave monotoned, “Loss: trivial.”

“And they say I’m the only self-sacrificing glitch in the crowd.” Optimus sighed, putting down his own menu, “However, even if you have to reveal your face to our audience tonight, may I reserve the honor as the only two mechs alive to have known the colour of your optics? As you might have known already, there’s a smaller but considerably interesting betting pool about it too.”

“Affirmative.” Soundwave monotoned vaguely. Optimus could tell he was humming to himself behind the mask. Knowing Soundwave, it means he might have manipulating the said betting pool himself, whether for profit only or out of amusement.

“Quit flirting.” A familiar voice suddenly cut in, “We’re having a growing audience here.”

As the unofficial dance party at Swerve’s before, some mysterious mech from the betting pool took his time pre-selling tickets to tonight’s event. According to Ratchet who recently joined the pool and “accidentally” leaking information by loudly swearing the pit out of it, this mysterious ticket-seller was a reliable source of information among the high ranks.

Mechs kept assuming it was Jazz as always. But yeah, Jazz rolled his optics at Soundwave for this nasty dirty trick whenever he could.

Wait a klik.

“Megatron?” Optimus almost jumped out of his chair when he recognized the familiar voice, and confirmed it wasn’t from his comm. “Where the pit are you?”

A suspicious knock from Soundwave’s chest plate. The purple decepticon logo on his semi-transparent cassette window glowed with pride.

“Did he just...” Optimus raised his head from Soundwave’s chest to his masked face, “Did you put him...”

“Mass displacing: convenient. Internal space: sufficient.” Soundwave monotoned proudly.

Optimus sighed heavily into his own palm to hide his frustration from the growing audience of the night. He whispered toward the shiny piece of flat blue glass. “And you let him?”

“He always wanted me to become a cassette.” The gun-former spoke from the other side of the door, “Doesn’t hurt trying for one night.” Then he paused and continued, “It’s nice in here by the way.”

“The offer is also open to Optimus.” The tapdeck added hopefully. “Do you consider adding a new alt-mode?”

“What’s so wrong about being a monster truck.” Optimus shook his helm. “What would I turn into if I have a mass-displaced alt-mode.”

“A vacuum cleaner.” Megatron suggested with a laugh, “It’s the most terrifying monster among all small appliances. Suits you well.”

“I can put you both inside me.” said Soundwave. He completely gave up his vocoder because this conversation was just too exciting for him.

“Wouldn’t that be very uncomfortable.” Optimus lowered his voice to keep their conversation quiet.

“Negative.” Soundwave straightened his back, “Carrier culture: it’s ultimately desired that one can have all one’s beloved mechanisms embedded within his frame all the time whenever”

Both Megatron and Optimus let out a pitiful whine at their lowest volume.

“Doesn’t help a tiny bit even your mouth is completely covered.” Megatron growled inside his chestplate.

“Primus someone please help you with your habit of dirty talking with that innocent face!” Optimus buried his face into the menu datapad again.

“That’s not...” Soundwave protested in vain.

“Shut up and hack these menu’s database.” Megatron hissed, “Replace it with a translated version as soon as possible and save all these confused mechs around us from a headache as good as mine.” 

And Soundwave did it within a klik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't tell me Soundwave didn't think for at least once about turning Megatron into a cassette so that he can keep him safe and carry him everywhere! This is canon!  
> Also vacuum cleaner is the most terrifying home appliance, ever! They are like trucks! They are unstoppable!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of past abuse  
> Optimus found out again about the calculating side of his decepticon lovers, only this time, they calculated for him. But he didn't like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to know you guys like the idea of Optimus the Monster Truck. It was my old hc, so since TFP Bulkhead was a big fan of the Monster Truck show or something similar to it in their universe and Ratchet pretended to hate it but accepting the concept without problem? Maybe there was an equivalent Cybertronian program as well? Like, gladiator fights canonically existed right? And racing matches. So what about Monster Truck Show which was quite close to the heavy duty vehicle modes' version of gladiator fights? It just might exist as well right? And they might be glorified as well right???  
> What if on Cybertron every baby truck just dreams of becoming a Monster Truck when he grows up just like every baby human and astronaut? But in the end they only get to grow up to become dockers, archivists and Primes because Life Sucks.

For half a joor before the manager and owner of the restaurant arrived to greet, Megatron had been bitterly commenting/complaining about every detail about this overly luxurious dining hall from the other side of Soundwave’s chest compartment door. As they’d been tightly surrounded by audience by then, Megatron transferred his low hissing dialogue to their shared comm.

Optimus, while absent-mindedly listening to him, wondered to himself how did the gun-former managed to see in all directions being confined in there.

:Carrie mode: offer all senses to be shared with the symbiotes. Soundwave: has no blind angle:

It’s private line. Megatron was still babbling out of boredom on the other line. Optimus guiltily tapped in to leave him behind.

:Is he always this vocal before meal?:

:Megatron: former gladiator. Gladiators: sponsored by mechs of high status. Gladiator Megatronus: glorious champion of the arena. Consequence: frequently guested by nobles. Decepticon cause: initiated by donations of nobles:

Optimus took his internal note.

:So he hates the nobles:

:Lord Megatron: hates pretending:

Optimus tapped out their private line. On the other line, Megatron was freely expressing his disliking of the chandelier as loud as he could to his only two audience.

“What food do you like?” Optimus asked. “And what type of diners would you prefer?”

It took a long silent moment for Megatron to realise both mechs were waiting for his answer.

“There used to be this small pub in Kaon.” The ex-gladiator answered, ”It was cheap business by the looks of it. But they don’t judge who you are. Once a loser of a death match climbed in out of his last breath asking for a beer, and the bartender sold him a couple with a discount, joked with him at the bar table until he was dead.”

“That damn place was this one place even Overlord wouldn’t start a fight.” He added. “Owner made it a solid rule no fights get inside or no food for you ever. Wanted to stay 100% neutral all the time. Even I kept decepticon business outside.”

He paused for a moment, “But he came for me himself one day. Asked to join. Said he was fed up with all the scrap ages ago. I let him. He died next day though. A pity.”

Optimus crossed his fingers in front of his chest. “What was your favourite food there?”

“The soup.” The ex-warlord answered without hesitation, “The Vosian type. Never tell Starscream that.”

“Query: what was Optimus’ favourite diner like before the war.” Soundwave asked, he laid the side of his cheek on his palm to support his helm. His visor lit up.

“There was this middle class cafeteria in South Iacon frequented by the local folks.” The Prime tried to recall, but found himself not remembering much detail, it was one of those plain diners with noting standing out and proud of it, “It had a name I can’t recall. In fact I doubt even its owner remembered the name. It had nothing extraordinary. If I have to pick something to mention in particular, well, it had a particularly big hall, wide tall and long, able to hold a few hundred hungry-after-work clerks inside and when it did, it was such a large crowd you wouldn’t be able to pick one mech in particular even if you knew him well. It had always been that way, nothing more and nothing less, and that was exactly why it was brilliant. You can do your own business without standing out. I loved to read historical articles there during my lunch break. No one paid enough attention to notice what I was doing or tell me I shouldn’t.”

The unsaid truth lied beneath, the diner was also destroyed when the vengeful decepticon seekers came to bomb up the city. Megatron tried to be uninterested. But he did notice how similar these two places were, to their customers. Maybe they had so different designs and different menus, and located on the two ends of this planet, but they meant the same thing to those who frequented them. And they had the same fate in the end, ruthlessly destroyed. What a truthful glimpse of the war, to find again that only the dead and destroyed hold the golden truth, just didn’t have the mouth telling it.

“White Square.” Soundwave spoke softly.

Optimus raised his chin, draw himself out of the old memory. “What?”

“The name of the diner.”

The Prime blinked at him, at Soundwave’s dimmed visor. “Oh,” he said, “It was indeed very square-y.”

Then he opened his mouth to ask in return, “What about you, what was your”

He was about to ask Soundwave about his pre-war dining preference when someone showed up at the kitchen door. After briefly scanning the dining hall, his face lit up when he found Optimus’ table, then gladly he headed in their direction, his movements graceful and his actions quiet and humble, but it only made him stand out from the crowd more than he should, it was impossible to ignore his presence.

It was a mech well painted and polished. It would take vorns of effort to look this tidy. The way his door wings and cockpit glowed indicated it was no quick make-up for today’s special occasion. But the colourful crystals decorating his frame on the other servo, spoke for his careful effort before showing up for his guests.

Optimus straightened up his back. In his peripheral vision, he saw Soundwave flinch, a rare sign of his.

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.” He reached out his right hand for a handshake and gripped Optimus firm and tight when he was granted the honour. The owner and manager of this restaurant looked joyful to see him, or at least he seemed to be.

:Expression: truthful:

Soundwave gently pinged him, just in time as always. And when the former noble turned to greet the tapedeck instead, Optimus carefully connected himself to Soundwave’s telepathy feed. It was an unpleasantly buzzing channel, obviously filtered and guarded by its creator, to protect the others from the rest of the overwhelmingly noisy world.

“I was so worried that you won’t show up, that the whole thing was merely another prank played to mess with me and my restaurant. You probably have heard, we get those a lot these days.” The truthfully over-joyed mech smiled wide at his two guests. “Never have I felt so happy to be wrong.”

They came across a few strange burn holes in the hallway and a few walls looked like they were painted overnight. Optimus did wonder why and now he didn’t need to any more. He eyed Soundwave, who listened to the owner’s long, flattery greeting line in silence. Megatron had been quiet.

“And so sorry for being late. I arrived breems ago yet my chief informed me about a glitch in the manager’s database. Must be another pranker who changed our menu display, we’ve been working on it but since customers already started ordering on it, we decide to go with it for now. I see you haven’t ordered yet. Here I recommend the house special soup for starter. Our chief once served the nobles of Vos, he always said he makes the most decent soup on this planet. I bet he’s right at least for now, since we’re only a handful of mechs here.”

:A pity you don’t get to eat with us tonight: Optimus nudged Megatron out of amusement.

:Did I mention I’m actually aiming at you in here?: The gun-former teased back, decepticon style.

While they were bantering, Soundwave quickly wrote his order and passed it to Optimus to view, an action indicating this particular occasion was taken rather seriously as in it was partially regarded political, with rank status loosely applied. It’s more threatening when it’s done by Soundwave while Optimus appeared more in character in his friendly self, as expected.

It worked. The noble decided to not overstay his welcome and wished them bon appetite before leaving for the kitchen door.

“He’s not quite what I expected.” Optimus admitted.

“Optimus: based imagination on Starscream.”

“Do you blame me for it.”

Amusement run across their link. It warmly nudged him before disappearing into the data void.

“Why do we keep coming back to Starscream when it’s finally a dinner without him.” Megatron muttered unhappily.

“Technically speaking it’s a dinner without you too, so forgive us for being not considerate enough for you.” Optimus leaned into his chair. “And what about the pranks.”

Both decepticons went silent.

“Soundwave?” Optimus questioned with an optic raised at him.

“The restaurant: a common target for hate cases.” Soundwave quietly gave in, “Crimes: including smashing windows, shooting fireballs, painting graffiti, 95% conducted by decepticons.”

“The other 5%?”

“2% neutrals 3% autobots.”

Optimus put his both servos back on the table and looked at his companion directly in the optics. “And how did you deal with the decepticons involved?”

“Law enforcement: autobots’ area of speciality according to the Agreement.” Soundwave monotoned.

“So you did nothing.” Optimus sighed heavily, “Well, I suppose it wasn’t completely your fault since I obviously received no report about these cases from the law enforcement unit.”

“Similar cases between factions: numerous.” Soundwave added.

“Was expected.” Optimus took a sip in his glass, “In this area particularly since it’s the first district with mixed faction residents. But this, this wasn’t expected.”

Or was it? He should have guessed what would happen ever since he approved the purchase of permit.

“The restaurant: was unexpected.” Soundwave emphasized.

“It truly was.” Optimus agreed. “Megatron, say something.”

“It’s just a restaurant. He’s a noble. He has the money to run one or two or even a few dozens of these.” The ex-warlord answered, “And he should have foreseen this himself. Look around yourself, do you blame the decepticons? The guy was pretty much asking for it. And don’t put it all on us, it’s an autobot habit to let the decepticons do the dirty work then pretend to not like it but still sitting around doing nothing.”

“I’m not gonna start a fight with you here only because it’s a special occasion.” Optimus in-vented deeply.

Before Megatron could pop another cruel punchline back at him Soundwave retracted his faceplate and leaned into his seat. His action attracted a lot of attention from around the table. True to say he wasn’t as careful with his face these days but it was still rare. He did it on purpose. Bathed in public gazes, both edgily angry leaders bowed their helms to calm down themselves.

“It will stop tomorrow.” The tapedeck quietly announced, “That’s why we are here. Whether he gets to become a sponsor or not tomorrow, the restaurant will live.”

He managed sincerity and threats at the same time with his true voice. And in that moment of quietness and all that attention focused on him, or at least his bare face from mechs around, he made sure he was heard. Very efficient mech indeed, that’s Soundwave to you.

“Jazz used to have this theory if you led the decepticons you would have won.” Optimus murmured into his glass.

“Glad to know he speaks so highly of me behind my back.” Soundwave took his own glass as well, “Please do tell him it’s not true.”

“I find myself doubting it.”

“Please remember how I falter helplessly at the sight of you two not so long ago.” The tapedeck took a sip into the glass, “Still do.”

“We’ll work on it.” Optimus agreed, “Work harder on it.”

 Megatron sent a frustrated growl from their shared link. “Watch your mouth. He’s rubbing off on you.”

 And damn it felt so sweet to have victory over Megatron on a verbal fight for once. Even better, the soups were served at such good timing, the two of them graciously took their spoons when the gun-former sulked on the other side of the door.

“It reminds me. It would be more financially beneficial and practically faster in effect if he’d invited Starscream instead.” Optimus commented. “A better chance at sympathizing with him, especially since they have a chief who worked for the Vosians before. The seekers react fast to everything, and fairly protective of what they like.”

“He desired for political effects.” Soundwave answered, “So far with only good intentions. I can tell he built up this restaurant between the residential areas of two factions in hope of helping reunite our people. It didn’t go well but I sensed no anger in him, only frustration.”

“So you believe he’s faithful in his bidding for sponsorship of the Council.”

“That is not to be judged by me.” Soundwave sipped into his spoon, helm low and face buried in shadows, it suited him well. “Telpathy isn’t fortunetelling. A lie may not be initially told as a lie but with time, turned into one. Truthful sparks may become foul. One’s belief in oneself does not his belief real to others.”

“You’re a mech of many wise words. You should speak more.” Optimus commented.

“Actually I shouldn’t.” Soundwave admitted without raising his helm, “My voice has mild hypnotizing effect. Another reason why I can’t lead.”

Optimus paused his spoon. “Why the sudden confession. I remember it took me two dozens dates, numerous fights and secret meetings, several trips to Ratchet’s, an alliance with Megatron and a kidnap and a brutal overload to make you tell me the other truth.”

“Better tell you myself than having someone else walking up to you and breaking the news.” The tapedeck muttered.

That, made him felt a little uneased, Optimus quickly changed their topic.

“Do you sense any faction preference in him.”

“So far he appears neutral, equally happy toward both of us. Slightly frightened by me, but that’s natural.”

That was quite natural indeed.

Optimus whispered to the other mech at the table for a helping hand.

“Megatron?” He tried, but received no answer.

So much for defeating Megatron with Soundwave tonight. Optimus shrugged with a sigh and focused on his soup instead.

It didn’t take long to see most mechs in the hall have their ordered food served to the table. Some of them obviously never learned table manners in their lives but sitting next to the last Prime of Cybertron and Soundwave the mech who knew everyone’s every deed, they did all try their best.

Optimus finished his main with his mind drifting to the imagination about Megatron’s eating manners. Would he be rude, devouring whatever was placed in front of him with no manner or would he be a gentlemech. He probably could do both, since as mentioned earlier, as an arena champion he was frequently invited by the wealthy from which he managed to deceive into donating for his rebellion, he at least must have learned how to behave properly on a noble table. But he might choose to be extra rude because of his presence. The warlord always spared no effort to scare his long-term rival away, sometimes in the most ridiculous way possible. That would be nice, too. If he chose to not pretend in front of Optimus Prime who was supposedly the highest of the high, it would in fact, be an honour to have him behaving rude at the table.

:An extra dinner afterwards can be arranged: Soundwave tapped in. Of course he heard what he was thinking.

:He really is hungry in there isn’t he:

:He likes that wrap shop around the corner. But I know it was the cookie they sell there as extras that kept him coming back:

:Is this why you taught me baking when we date:

:Optimus: a terrible cook. Soundwave: will not make this mistake again:

He had to swallow his laugh by washing it down with more drink.

“You are even better doing table manners than me.” Optimus put down the glass. “I can’t say I’m not impressed. Is this also in the training?”

“The basics of special operation, is to get into different character on demand.” Soundwave answered quietly, “I can do manners of a wide range, from a lowlife energon peasant to a graceful noble escort.”

“And what would be your true manners.”

“None.” The spy answered with extra easiness in his voice, “I was given my first proper share of energon when I was in the spy program.”

It was one piece of stunning truth that wasn’t exactly surprising. Optimus changed the topic.

“At least tell me what you enjoy.”

“I enjoy having food with my family.” The tapedeck answered in low, quiet voice, “To see all my beloved ones have sufficient food to eat. It doesn’t matter much what I eat.”

“That can be arranged.” Optimus agreed.

Halfway finishing his main, the tapedeck raised his helm for the first time, food residue at the corner of his mouth, which he quickly licked away with his glossa.

“Can I cook you dinner some time?” He asked. “When you are free.”

“I don’t recall someone ever offered to cook for me then ask if _ _I__ _ _’__ _ _d__ have free time for it.” Optimus amused. “What else do you offer.”

“The set B meal in White Square.” Soundwave was confident, “Your favourite order. Its main was the Iacon style palladium loaf with mercury source and cobalt acetate seasoning. I can make a replica.”

“Sounds great.” Optimus nodded, “Though I reserve my right to know how you learned that information for now.”

It took a silent moment to have the confined gunformer join in again.

“Only him?” He questioned, more or less salty.

“I think I can get a decent Vosian recipe from Thundercracker.” Soundwave added patiently. “And maybe a new cookie recipe somewhere.”

“You are spoiling us.” The gunformer confirmed.

To Optimus’ surprise, the tapedeck raised one servo to his chest compartment door almost endearingly, and touched himself with one digit, stroke his cassette door from the very top to the bottom, sliding across that purple icon painted in the middle on the way. His movement was slow and gentle, full of affection, so full of affection that he didn’t even need the link between them to see. It was something beyond romance and loyalty, he couldn’t tell what it was, but it was beautiful. And after his digit reaching the left bottom seam of his cassette door, Soundwave raised his helm at Optimus and smiled at him.

It was the first time Optimus saw him smile. And he just realised it, even if he spent more time with Soundwave than Megatron since they began their relationship, or at least alliance, much earlier, he never saw him smile. Somehow he doubted even Megatron saw it often. By now he could tell the tapedeck wasn’t as expressionless and cold as everybot assumed behind that mask, actually he was positive he smiled a lot behind those mask and visors of his, at Megatron, at other decepticons, at his cassettes, or maybe even at Starscream a few times. But he rarely displayed himself like this, whether it was out of fear, or secrecy, or devotion, or simply a military strategy to keep his status, that he chose not to show himself like this even to his beloved ones, eventually he always preferred to have everyone more focused on his actions, abilities and attributions. And now that he did, it warmed Optimus’ spark, and he felt, honored, whatever he intended for Megatron, he was now willing to share it with Optimus as well.

He was taken back into the world of reality by the voice of the noble mech who ran the restaurant asking if they liked the food. The young noble obviously had been standing there for a while, and slightly concerned when Optimus didn’t answer.

“The food here is fantastic. It’s truly a tragedy that many Cybertronians are yet to taste it.” Optimus quickly replied, “Thank you for inviting us for this brilliant night. Also, such good news to know someone is still capable of mastering the old skills, it’s a relief to see something unchanged after all these vorns of war. One of my oldest friends would be thrilled to hear there’s another resourceful Vosian nearby, yet hidden in the kitchen. I believe he will soon be dropping with his friends.”

It was at least a guarantee of social status, and upcoming protection. Not quite the best result he could aim for, yet already much higher than the lowest he was prepared for. However, the owner and manager of the restaurant did not express much joy to his offer, his cheered with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Optimus may not be a mind reader, but he didn’t lead an army for nothing. The mech was much more nervous somehow only after a main dish’s time. Something was clearly bothering him and it was close.

“It’s such a pleasure to serve you.” He stuttered. “The both of you. Uh, the dessert is on the way, but I feel obliged to share with you this wine. It was my oldest collection. I promised myself eons ago that I would only open it when the war was declared over and today I walked into my study, it just struck me like lightening. Wouldn’t today be the best day?”

Optimus pinged Soundwave for his opinion, but strangely Soundwave did not answer. The tapedeck silently continued with his meal without even spare a glance at the now heavily sweating restaurant owner. Whatever he meant by that the wine was probably not poisoned. So Optimus had to go with it, maybe pour a glass or two for his date tonight as well like the gentlemech he was, just for the drama-thirsty optics and audials of their audience.

However, when the plug was removed with a soft pop, the bubbling liquid poured all over him.

“I’m so sorry!” The nervous restaurant manager now looked devastated. “Please let me clean it up for you. This way, my private wash rack is right behind the kitchen.”

Optimus was then dragged all the way behind the hall and pushed into the wash rack by the heavily panting young noble who slammed the door behind him immediately. Obviously the mech had something to say in private, at this point Optimus couldn’t say he wasn’t interested. Nontheless, he was already prepared for fight and with his coordinates ready for emergency protocol.

 However he didn’t expect the young noble to hold his hands with pleading eyes and literally begged him to believe what he was about to say.

“I didn’t know!” He claimed, “He didn’t have a name back then! Most mechs who had ever seen his face died at the beginning of the war, assassinated by himself I assume! He must have thought I died too. I hope he didn’t recognize me! But nontheless you’re in great danger Mr. Prime! I can help you to get help from outside!”

“I’m afraid you need to give me more details.” Optimus sighed, “Calm down my friend. I can assure you your life is as safe as mine at this point. However I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

“Soundwave!” The mech announced, “That mech with the face and the cassette compartment! I can’t believe I even voted for him with good money! He was a royal escort before the war, or at least he pretended to be one, very popular among the nobles even! Many who had bedded him died unspeakable deaths soon afterward by the hand of the Senate. It turned out he was a spy sent by the Council to dig the secrets of those rebellious wealthy merchants in order to have the senators gain absolute power over us! Rumours say he was a mind-reader! He has tentacles like those spark-eaters. One touch you’re completely under his control! And he didn’t even need to do that in order to control you, you hear his voice and you’re hypnotized for good! Thinking he’s the prettiest mech you’ve ever seen and fall directly for him. Please don’t fall for his deception Mr. Prime. We’ve only had this peace for a few years time! I want to see my home planet thrive again!”

It didn’t take long for Optimus to return to his seat, his plate clean and dry. The said dessert though, took longer than expected.

“Did you find out his intentions yet?” Soundwave asked casually. “And true faction preference.”

“Indeed I have. Now I have correct and truthful answers to both questions.” Optimus replied without showing signs of any emotions. “And I’ve also found out the reason of your strange behaviour tonight. I don’t think I quite like it.”

Then finally came the dessert.

“Enjoy.” Said the waiter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some restaurants are just over doing it...


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: bad English. bad drama. bad humour  
> It's just a whole chapter of characters bickering.

The plan about the extra dinner afterwards for the sake of Megatron’s suffering was, obviously canceled without anyone discussing with the starving mech himself.

Optimus was walking in his robot mode with great speed in front of the both of them. Or in front of Soundwave who was still carrying his lord inside his chest compartment.

“You know,” Megatron broke the silence, “If you want to go faster, you can just transform and drive.”

And that finally set the Prime off, for he stopped pacing ahead and turned around to face him, or rather, face Soundwave’s very blue chest window.

“Did you plan this with him?” He asked, his voice struggling to contain his anger.

“I told you it’s his choice when you asked.” The ex-warlord simply shrugged off the question. “And you know what? You’ve got what you asked for, so why the fuss?”

“I’ve been wondering to myself for a long time.” The Prime took in a long, deep suck of cool air of the Iacon night, “Where, exactly is the decepticon morale line. And what exactly is your definition of pain and hurt.”

“The answer to the first one was probably ‘it doesn’t exist at all’.” Megatron muttered, “And to the latter one? Is this the decepticons don’t have pain circuit talk again? I thought this one’s as dead as Sentinel Prime by now.”

“Quit messing around.” Optimus ran his left hand over his face, and turned for Soundwave himself instead, “Why did you not mention this to me.”

“Soundwave: explained during the dinner.” There came the monotone.

“Did you recognize him before the dinner?”

“Affirmative.” The tapedeck admitted, “Background check: thorough. Probability of mutual recognition: 67%.”

“Stop playing with numbers. It won’t buy you a free pass this time.” Optimus angrily pointed his finger at his date, how did this mech manage to lift him to heaven and throw him right into the pit? How dare he. “As a telepath, you know exactly whether there’s a mutual recognition or not the moment he laid his optics on you. In fact I don’t think you even need telepathy to read him at all. He’s as expressive as a public datapad.”

The tapedeck stood still, his face once again covered and his visor lit up in a neutral way. He was playing unreadable mystery again, with slightly more body language this time maybe out of sheer respect for his furious date.

He tilted his chin. “Query: why is Optimus angry. Today’s purpose: fulfilled.”

“Holy Primus, I don’t know why I’m even still talking.” Optimus lowered his helm in defeat, “He insulted you, to me, and I couldn’t even punch him. Potential sponsor or a passionate patriot too naive to be useful or an autobot empathizer or whatever he was put aside, he didn’t even know it was as basic as a sparkling’s lullaby to everyone who had remotely fought in the war that Soundwave the decepticon TIC is a telepathic spy, always have been and always will be. And you spent your time, skills, speciality, and all kinds of resources, on what? To guide me to this and make sure I get to listen to this full speech in person.”

“Speech: proves his faction preference as neutral noble. Speech: demonstrates true intentions of his deeds out of stress.” 

“And speech, of all the things I would die before I ever want to hear someone say about you, turns out used be a common belief among many. And you plotted for him to inform me of it, privately. Why?”

The telepath flinched at his raised voice, and somehow that tiny gesture, tiny detail made Optimus just suddenly, get it.

“It’s not about morale standard difference or anything faction related isn’t it.” He admitted, almost only to himself, “It’s about trust. While I was testing him, our potential sponsor, you were testing me. You want to see if I’ll look down on you after what I learned, probably like many others you met before.”

“Well, I will not.” He shook his helm, words dipped in thick disappointment.

With those words, he left alone.

 

As usual, Megatron showed up for their routine meeting the next week. They talked about Starscream first.

“He announced almost instantly that the restaurant, or at least the chef is under his protection from now. And obviously this place will become the main location of that peace celebration he planned earlier. He even already processed the paperwork. I wish he was half this efficient doing everything else.”

“Did he send out invitations to the captains of those neutral ships still in orbit yet?”

“Well he tried to.” Megatron yawned, “I kicked him all the way back inside. We ended up shouting nonsense at each other on the bridge. Everyone else was clapping at us to show just how much they missed this farce. Damn, I didn’t realise I missed this too, just a little.”

“Thank you for stopping him.” Optimus collected a few datapads from the shelf, “It’s not very good timing. The last ship went into some domestic trouble on board during their votes for a new captain. It would appear aggressive if we push in right now.”

“You have a mech or two up in there don’t you.”

“No comment.” Optimus sighed, “I stopped asking Jazz about his information source ages ago.”

“Oh I can relate.” Megatron smirked.

The indication made Optimus shift a little in his chair, “I’m not sure about hosting a dinner with the new arrivals’ captains in that restaurant though. It might just give our guests the wrong idea.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” Megatron shrugged, “Starscream’s no fool though he appears to be close enough. He tricked the owner into signing a refurbish agreement with him. Of course it wasn’t just a refurbish agreement. He’s gonna stuff all the abominable slag his new academia crazies club’s house inventions into that place to, let me quote ‘make this outdated little shed shine with modern fashions’. After they’re done, and if I ever go there again? I would never want to see what’s going on in the kitchen.”

“No wonder Perceptor was singing to himself all this morning.” Optimus nodded, pushing one of the datapads he was reading to the other side of the table. “The new Academy kept asking for communal lab area. To be honest I don’t want them working too close to each other yet if there’s no assigned research topic to unite them as true team. Now that they’re preoccupied together with common interest I think I can put it aside for another month.”

“Oh you don’t say.” Megatron agreed with a grin, “If Starscream tries invading Shockwave’s lab area with his new squad once again my Head of Scientific Affairs might just start a new war himself.”

“And what else was on that refurbish agreement.” Optimus added. “To put a smile this wide on your face.”

“See for yourself.” Megatron took out a datapad and handed it to Optimus, “Here.”

Optimus took the datapad and quickly read it through, “Transfer of restaurant management?”

“But not ownership.” Megatron explained, “So he still owns the place, but we send the manager. Stipend will be addressed in form of stock. The more he earns, so do we.”

“Sneaky contract.” Optimus half complimented. “Was it also Starscream’s idea?”

“No. Thundercracker just quickly handed this page as an appendix to the poor noble and let him sign it. No one could think straight after listening to Starscream’s lecture for a solid joor.”

“Thundercracker?”

“He’s Starscreams trinemate, of course Starscream took him along.” Megatron then added, “Well, he’s the sanest one. A professional aft wiper after all these vorns spent with Starscream and Skywarp, for that I can forgive him for his questionable loyalty.”

“He doesn’t strike me as the scheming type.” Optimus commented.

“He’s not, but he’s Soundwave’s secretary.” 

The two of them went silent. Or at least Optimus did and Megatron followed. After a while the visitor changed to another topic.

“What’s the Council’s decision of his sponsorship by the way.”

 “It’s not the Council’s decision.” Optimus disagreed, “Without your signature it will not be processed.”

“So I suppose there’s a datapad hidden somewhere in this room waiting for my signature then?” The ex-warlord raised an optic.

Optimus sighed and almost reluctantly began searching for a certain datapad from the tall pile of it on his desk.

“You seem very positive that we’d accept his offer.”

“Why not?” Megatron sighed, “I was there too remember? He’s rich. He’s passionate. He’s patriotic. He’s naive and an autobot empathizer, totally ditched Soundwave for your safety when he saw fit, which means he’s very stupid, and that’s even better. Rich and stupid, how can it get even more perfect?”

“I thought him being an autobot empathizer wouldn’t appear very delightful to you.” Optimus asked.

“Oh you know what mechs who love decepticon cause but didn’t join are like. Either coward or, freaking lunatic who think my army is a long list of pride-less mercenaries.”

“What about true neutrals.”

“You and I both know there’s nothing like true neutral. Everyone has preference whatsoever.” Megatron announced, “You go back and ask that noble kid, he’d say he’s one true neutral and believe himself.”

Sighing heavily to himself, Optimus finally pulled that datapad out of his massive pile and handed it to Megatron along with a pen. The warlord quickly signed it and returned it to his co-leader.

“There is one more crucial topic we haven’t talked about today.” The ex-warlord finally pointed out for him. “What are you gonna do with my TIC who’d been ghostly hovering over your door every night with flowers for the past few days. Elite guards are giving me funny looks now.”

Optimus folded all his digits together, rubbed his face with his clasped hands, then sighed.

“I don’t like this topic.” 

“I don’t like this topic either.” Megatron announced loudly, “But to be perfectly honest with you? I’m more than stunned by what the pit was going on during the past two weeks. Look at you. When the war was over, I expected to hear you finally loosen up, settle down, even find love very soon, however in the end you got your aft kicked into a bar as a medical procedure and couldn’t even do it right without being processor-hacked. Before I know it you then decided it’s such a good idea to woo me into your berth while still dating my TIC. Now that you’ve got two decepticons to fill up the cold gaps between your berth and your lame blanket, you first got Soundwave, the calmest mech in the universe, to become deadly mad at you then within a week’s time you manage to, in the other way round, you got yourself, the most forgiving mech in the universe, to be deadly mad at him?”

Megatron took a long meaningful invent, “Seriously, Prime. If you tell me this two weeks ago I wouldn’t even believe you. The two mechs I based my entire functioning on the belief that they aren’t even capable of being angry, now just won’t stop fighting.”

“For you credit I have spent half of my life being angry at you.” Optimus raised his helm from his clasped hands, “Don’t underestimate yourself you forever hold my record. And it’s not fighting if it’s not mutual.”

“Thank you Prime I’ll keep the record with great care.” The ex-warlord hummed, “And yes I can tell it’s not mutual. It’s just either you apologizing to him and he accepts it, or he apologizing to you and you won’t accept it.”

“I’m being mean.” The Prime admitted guiltily.

“You are very mean.” Megatron agreed. “You even made me apologise to the both of you once. I’ve seen no meaner mech in my entire life.”

Optimus smiled at the mention of his old achievement.

“Yes.” He eventually admitted.” But I apologise after I realise what I’ve done wrong.” He explained with great speed, “And I only accepted your apology when you admitted your wrong deed. But he apologise because I’m angry.”

“I see nothing wrong with that.”

“You see exactly what I see is wrong in that.” Optimus frowned at him before turning his helm away in embarrassment, “Otherwise you’d be siding with him, not sitting with me.”

A long pause.

“OK, I get it.” Megatron admitted, “You feel betrayed. You trust him enough to take him on a spy mission for a date, but he only wanted to see your guts spilt. You granted him blatant trust but he didn’t return the favor.”

Optimus sank into his chair to see what he had to say next.

 “Can’t you just be satisfied with what you have now?” The warlord relaxed as he did, “See he might not have reached your standard of trust for romantic relationships, but I can guarantee you’re on top of his private list of trusted individuals.”

“As fascinate as it sounds,” The Prime turned him down, “The answer is still no.”

The ex-warlord crossed his legs, “And they say I’m greedy.”

“You are greedy.” Optimus announced, “I’m just, needy.”

“That’s supposed to sound better?” Megatron questioned.

The Prime shook his helm, “Not really.”

His old foe and new lover then looked at him with cunning eyes, “And if I tell you you aren’t even listed on my list of trusted?”

“I would simply tell you neither are you listed on mine.” The Prime answered dryly. “As cruel as it is, that’s just both true and unsurprising.”

“Then tell me, what made me so different.” Megatron gave him no escape.

“You are Megatron.” Optimus explained almost impatiently, “That huge ego of yours put aside, with the responsibility the size of a galactical army burdened on your shoulders, I’d actually be deadly concerned if you come around just this easily in such short time.”

“Oh, and so you thought, since Soundwave’s just a little spy in his awkward retirement, not a tyrannical warlord or the workaholic head of a council, totally easy to woo. Should have him wrapped around your fingers by now. Guess what, turns out you haven’t.” Megatron literally tssed him, “Presumptions, Prime, you can’t just get enough of them.”

“Could you please just stop this victim blaming.” Optimus gave him a disapproving look, unconfident.

“Do you want me to?” Megatron tilted his chin, “’Cause I’m under the impression that you let me sit and talk for this long for the sole purpose of wanting to hear some crappy theory about it’s all Optimus Prime’s fault. He’s so blamable all the time. Let’s blame the revolution, the massacre, the war, the destroyed planets and this morning’s newly broken elevator on him. ‘Cause he’s secretly blaming himself for all of this already, asking himself over and over again in his Matrix-enhanced processor, is this somehow my fault as well? Can I get Megatron to tell me this today?”

“Megatron if you have a point, please do make it clear.” Optimus snapped right back at him.

“Oh I do have a point to make, nothing you haven’t heard before.” Megatron raised his voice, “Because, tell me, Optimus, what __else__  is keeping you from his apology?”

Which was why Optimus ended up sleeping in Ratchet’s clinic for that night. The conversation, cut off the politics part, was exactly the rare dose of wicked amusement that Ratchet needed.

“No wonder they say your rival knows you best. Damn he put it out so well.” The old medic cheered, “I wanted to hit you with it ages ago. You forever self-doubting self-loathing uncertain unsure piece of useless scrap!”

His old friend of no good lie flat in his spare office sofa. “Yes I am.”

“So why are you here? Go talk to that ghost who hovers over your bedroom door every night.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“About what.”

“About the trust i demanded.” Optimus answered tiredly, “The decepticons might be oblivious but as the leader of autobots I know by my spark that trust can not be demanded, it has to be earned. How am I supposed to accept an apology when it’s also my fault.”

“Then tell him.”

“I doubt he will even understand the question.”

“Then explain to him.” The medic bitterly announced, “How else do you plan to solve this? Didn’t it take tons of explanation to get you to woo Megatron?”

“Yeah.” Optimus half dozed off, “I suppose you are right.”

After he was left alone, he lied still in the dark trying not to think about all the mistakes he made in life when someone pinged him. It was Megatron. According to Soundwave, Megatron dislike comm texts.

:He brought you sapphire crystals today by the way.: A pause. :His offerings to you just keep getting more and more expensive. You’d better do something before he brings in something ridiculous:

Optimus smiled guiltily.

:Didn’t know you pay him so well:

:I pay him well enough but not that well. You won’t like it if you find out how he gets the extra. So I suggest you don’t:

:Note taken:

Another pause. Maybe Megatron was simply just checking on him after checking on Soundwave. Who would have guessed the tyrant was secretly a mother hen.

Another ping. Optimus woke from his almost doze-off state.

:I lied today. I do have a private list of trust individuals and you’re on the list as well. You are just very far below. Entry 40097 maybe:

:I’m on a long way:

He could somehow hear Megatron laugh in the back of his processor even if it was pure text communication.

:Aren’t you always: Was his reply.

Something warm crawled into his spark chamber. Somehow Optimus thought to himself, he just found the right answer.

:So take your time:

He answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Megatron tries to be a decent leader, Optimus is in love and inexperienced, and Soundwave secretly a sugar daddy.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: bad English. Mentions of prostitution as undercover.

Jazz was summoned to Optimus’ office the next day, to be asked for advice in finding the suitable mech to fill the position of the restaurant’s manager.

“I’d say I’m the perfect mech for the job.” His beloved subordinate happily announced, “However, I think you have something else in mind.”

“You are right.” Optimus nodded, “Preferably, the mech should be a decepticon.”

Though neither faction liked this restaurant that more resembled a shiny shrine in disguise by the looks of it, the decepticons had been considerably more, aggressively expressive of their disapproval. Also, since the decepticons’ engagement in Council’s decision making has always been conducted in a passive way, now that the restaurant they hated was recruited under the Council’s management, it’s about time to find a way to deal with their reluctance in participation.

“It’s not like that I know a lot of decepticons.” Jazz shrugged.

Optimus gave him a doubting look in return.

“Alright, alright.” The ex-spy instantly gave in, “I can work out a name list by dawn.”

“Acceptable.” Optimus relived.

“Oh and before that,” Jazz suddenly shrank into his smug smirk face, “did you hear the gossip about the betting pool?”

Optimus tensed up immediately with his back deadly sore from last night’s uncomfortable sleep in Ratchet’s sofa, but Jazz shooshed him down with a smile.

“Easy, sunshine. It’s not your pool I’m talking about. That one’s been good lovey-dovey ‘round and round these days.” He eased him back down, “It’s Soundwave’s pool. Remember I told you there’s been a betting pool about the colour of his optics? Well that one’s closed this morning. ‘Hide lost big money in it. Who would have guessed his optics were neither red nor blue!”

Before Optimus could say anything Jazz quickly spoke forward, “’Hide is convinced it’s me who released the photo. Well he and a lot of other mechs. Dudes around here kinda think I started this betting pool somehow with knowing the answer this entire time, just recently released this photo to mess with them.”

Somehow Optimus gathered enough strength to cut in and asked, “What photo.”

Jazz quickly pulled out a visual display of a blurry yet still readable photo, showing a windy construction site which Optimus immediately identified as one of the earliest decepticon area cleared for residency, and Soundwave, standing there with the side of his face facing the camera, obviously not noticing the camera, was rubbing his right optic with his visor in one hand, revealing the colour of his optics in the process. The picture was clearly candid, but despite its low resolution, Soundwave looked natural and clear in it.

Optimus raised his helm, “Jazz.” He said. “Did you” He began.

“Of course not!” Jazz pretended to snap, twisting his unfinished question during the process, ”Well I did start the betting pool though, but what’s the fun in betting on something you already know the answer to? That’s not gold ol’ Jazz to ya. That one anonymous participant who won all the money by betting on the right colour is as mysterious to me as to everyone else. What a lucky mech, I wish I were him, what do you think he’s doing with his new fortune tonight?”

He finished his one last heavy question, with a big, wide, evil grin.

Optimus had a terrible feeling that he was about to find out the answer to this question very soon. And he was not gonna like it.

That day, Optimus concentrated his mostly distracted mind as hard as he could on his work and finished everything as early as he could manage. When he finally reached his comfy apartment of solitude, he slammed himself inside the kitchen and started making tea almost as a coping mechanism.

The moment Soundwave showed up at his door, he opened the door and dragged him all the way inside to his tea table, revealing a secret tea party of one to his ex-flatmate. However the latter mech wasn’t exactly taking it too well, for he stood rigidly in front of the table he’d been invited to, not daring to sit down, then awkwardly offered his friendly host a small, well-decorated box. He stopped bringing flowers of all colours after the first three nights he was denied entry.

“Soundwave: brought gift.” Said the tapedeck.

In-venting deeply, Optimus carefully took the box in hand and ignoring Soundwave’s quiet relief, opened it.

Much to his surprise, It was a key.

“I thought,” Optimus stuttered, “Megatron said it was a sapphire crystal.”

Soundwave lit up his visor. “Query: Optimus prefers the sapphire crystal.”

It was a dangerous question that the Prime chose not to answer, so he asked instead.

“What is this?”

“I bought you a ship.” Soundwave stated. Dryly, as a matter of fact, with no sense of humour or tease in the slightest, much like his usual monotone vocoder despite the fact he just turned it off for Optimus’ comfort.

And as a telepath, a rather nervous one at the moment, Soundwave sensed his Prime’s burst emotions flaring up like a missile being fired up into sky. It burned a whole bunch of confusion, shock, displeasure and, the tapedeck nervously licked his lip behind the mask when he tasted disappointment on his glossa.

He tried again in vain. “It’s not as big as the Ark.”

The look Optimus gave him was almost terrifying, in fact, the Prime looked badly shaken himself.

“You leaked a photo of yourself for the money didn’t you?” He didn’t even wait for the answer, “And you spent your money on this.”

Soundwave cursed Jazz a thousand time in the back of his processor when he was pushed into the seat he was intended for. To his surprise, despite the intense anger he could sense from the Prime, Optimus managed to bottle it up and poured him a cup of well brewed tea.

The tapedeck, taking the tea cup by the handle, finally slid away his battle mask, revealing his pale face beneath it. On the other side of the table, Optimus did the same. They both took their first sip of relief of this terrible night.

When Soundwave heard the sound of his lover’s cup touching the saucer, he put down his own tea to wait for his execution to be announced.

But the Prime, seemed to have decided to give him a bit more time, for he demanded instead.

“I’d like to know if what he said that night is true.”

It took Soundwave too long to reply. “Affirmative.”

“When you use the royal escorts as an example to demonstrate the nature of spy activity, I didn’t realise you were being literal about it.” Optimus slightly shook his helm, not in disbelief this time, yet Soundwave could still sense his disappointment, growing thick as they spoke.

“Under your cover, you conducted massive killing toward your previous targets before the start of civil war.”

“Affirmative.”

“I’d like to know under whose command.” Optimus stretched his arm on the table, his tea cup making soft click sounds of bumping ceramics.

A pause. “Mixed commands.” Soundwave in-vented, “When the tensions began to build up within the high caste, and politic opinions toward where this planet should be heading began to split, I was sent for assassination of disobedient merchants who messed with sponsorship by the Council. It was a long list to begin with and I saw my chance in it. I turned in false information of the noble mechs who stood in the way of the newly formed decepticon cause to the Senate in order to misguide their attention, distracting them from the rising cause. I played double agent for Megatron before the war started, during which I purposely mixed Megatron’s name list with the senators’ assigned list to create chaos among the fleeting nobles.”

“I can tell it worked.”

“It did.” Soundwave turned his optics away for a klik, his golden optics flickered behind his red visor, “The high caste was on a civil war of massive killing themselves by the time the war started. Some of them sought for protection from the illegal forces underground. In the end, these gangs were just Decetpticons by different names. It led Noble money to the rising cause’ pocket. It wasn’t until when the war broke out did Sentinal Prime finally realise their financial crisis. ”

“Which explained why even with better equipment and preparation, the old Senate still failed in defending themselves from a group of newly armed civilians who called them the Decepticons.” Optimus recalled. “I have to admit, when I was a book-worm Iacon docker who almost got myself killed in the process, you guys were doing fantastic manipulating a revolution.”

“We had a hard time when the new Prime by the name of Optimus rose from nowhere.” Soundwave admitted, “You were very resourceful when it came to make the best use of limited resources. Later when I gathered enough information, I drew the conclusion that you gained such ability from your previous identity as a labour worker.”

“Consider your conclusion true.” Optimus agreed, he cupped both hands to his warm tea. “And now I know how the nobles fell, it led to more questions.”

Soundwave waited patiently while the Prime took his sip of tea. When the Prime was done drinking down his tangling thoughts of the past, the telepath offered one hand reaching for the other above the table. It was a unsaid invitation, much like the silent yet passionate sessions they used to share in this very same room. Only this time, the invisible key offered out of trust would not lead to a room of innocent pleasure.

“May I?” The telepath asked. It whispered underneath the quiet tone: would you?

Would you again.

Optimus dimmed his optics, to save himself from the drowning sensation in the whirling sorrow. He knew he shouldn’t, that Soundwave would not offer this part of his memory if not for his burst of anger. But who was he if he dared to deny his lover of his last resort. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

So he reached his hand in return. Their digits met half way, over his dining table, covered by the white tablecloth woven with flowers as decorations.

His mind was instantly sucked into Soundwave’s memory. Like the last time they did this, the world was unfold in front of him like an open album. However unlike the vivid vision of Megatron, this one was blurry, fading, stained by the edge, but something was telling Optimus it was by no means old. After all, It was supposed to be the beginning of civil war, his recordings of Megatron began before that. This was just an album never treasured or polished like the others. It was dimmed by salt water and dipped in acid to have the details faded away, in order to show everything in its old vintage blur, a blur to allow its owner to pretend it happened a long long time ago.

It showed a ballroom well-decorated by sculptured crystals and painted metal sheets, the way they used to photograph al lot in newspapers and the historic books he used to love so much. Even to Optimus, It almost looked like another lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....we are about to see a bit more.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so far the darkest chapter.  
> Warnings: mentions of prostitution, dub-con and slavery.

His mind was instantly sucked into Soundwave’s memory. Like the last time they did this, the world was unfold in front of him like an open album. However unlike the vivid vision of Megatron, this one was blurry, fading, stained by the edge, but something was telling Optimus it was by no means old. After all, It was supposed to be the beginning of civil war, his recordings of Megatron began before that. This was just an album never treasured or polished like the others. It was dimmed by salt water and dipped in acid to have the details faded away, in order to show everything in its old vintage blur, a blur to allow its owner to pretend it happened a long long time ago.

It showed a ballroom well-decorated by sculptured crystals and painted metal sheets, the way they used to photograph al lot in newspapers and the historic books he used to love so much. Even to Optimus, It almost looked like another lifetime.

The party began when the tall gate poured in its guests. The crowd enjoyed their masquerading by wearing their own faces. It took Optimus a while to figure out he was playing the role of one of the guests, whether he was supposed to be one of Soundwave’s old targets or simply a fictional, unimportant character to provide a pair of eyes for him was left unclear at this point. With the sweet lies being whispered into his audials and the shiny diamonds blinding his sight, the guest he was playing was nursed into them, into the crowd of graceful wealth which mumbled softly as a warm, suffocating fog, where he did not find Soundwave. And when he eventually did, Soundwave was on the wine table.

Optimus had heard of this kind of performances before, the professional dancers were paid to dance at a party where each of them were only allowed a small wine table as stage. The dance was adopted from underground bars of the low caste in Kaon, where the bartenders would sometimes allow buymechs to display themselves on the bar table. It started as a degrading show but somehow on the last breath of their dying pride the desperate prostitutes turned it into a form of true dance. Even when it became popular among the wealthy mech of Iacon, the only difference was still nothing more than the choice of table.

Optimus had no idea what the spy academy had on their training list but Soundwave was good, professional to say the least, if not the best. He danced to the music with not even one joint of his frame left alone, pacing around the limited area covered by the perfect white tablecloth with stunning grace and patience. He had no fear. His passion was well-hidden, it was covered underneath the thick layer of self-containment that cut all the edges. His table wouldn’t tumble under his pedes. His table wouldn’t twitch. He skipped, span, bounced and flipped, but his table wouldn’t creak. He was too quiet, unlike his fellow dancers who were trying to display themselves with great passion for various good and terrible reasons in order to be noticed by one, just any one potential buyer who would take them home tonight, he was simply being served to them, to all of them, on a table, like another softly bubbling, aromatic champagne tower.

And for that he was adored and admired. People bathed him with praise and compliment before they turned away for another fun. But not Optimus, not the pair of optics through which the Prime was looking at the dancer who he danced with millions of years later.

It reminded him of how different Soundwave was even as a spy.

As a leader of an army that fought a million battles, he’d met many spies, raised up a handful from scratch even. He drew a line for them, Jazz then wiped the line in return. His own spymaster liked to pretend espionage was easy job by announcing he bought himself every free pass with that almighty smile of his, kept telling tales to others about how his smiled all his way to the worst targets of his life and back, but behind closed doors, when they were confined in a medbay locked by Ratchet, his best spy would tell him his other stories because war conditioned people. When every spy would show up with a well-trained, well-programmed, competent, easy-going, friendly, and talkative personality, people stopped trusting each other. Gold turned to bronze and wine turned to poison. In the end, when Jazz forgot how to wipe out the smile of his off his own face, people began to have problem looking at him.

Even Optimus burnt his spark in shame when he realized he’d been talking to the spy staring down at his desk for so long time that he found Jazz looking different from the way he remembered when he finally looked at him in the face for once in a long long time. Part of the reason he’d let Jazz play with fire even after war, some mechs deserved an excuse to pretend better than others. Sometimes he felt like Megatron’d been doing the same for Soundwave. But in the end, Soundwave wasn’t Jazz, he was the mirror reflection of his nemesis in so many ways. For one, if he and Soundwave stared in each other’s face over an office desk, Soundwave would be the one who lowered his helm in shame not the other way round, but for different reasons. A spy’s eager competence, fake friendliness, openness, false stupidity, well-designed smiles, misplaced trusts, Soundwave needed none of those, because no one else was a telepath. He cheated this game, and the game led a private hell to him in return.

Because Jazz was many things but murderer was never one of them. Soundwave on the other hand, his original design had been equipped with much higher fire power for a good reason. In a world without hope, if a touch could earn a telepath more than a smile ever would, before he knew it, there would be more hands on him than he could take.

Optimus had to turn around his helm to stop himself from looking when the first dance was over and the guests began flirting with the dancers, bargaining for the after-party. And so did Soundwave, curled up on the small table with his legs folded in front of his chest compartment, he stayed silent when mechs began sliding digits along his thigh. He stayed perfectly still, making it perfectly clear that he was staying to the rule, he wasn’t to leave the table without permission, he was the obedient pet, helplessly thrown into the nest of predators while in fact, he was the only predator among a bunch of petro-rabbits who merrily bounced around him without knowing what would come next. It burnt white fury in Optimus, somehow he gather the strength to push through the crowd and stop by that table. He was angry, not sure whether angry at the guests or Soundwave himself because damn all these dumb rich bastards to the pit and right back, they were harassing a well-trained assassin who could kill them all on the spot and got away with it. But they simply weren’t looking, none of these mechs were looking even slightly deeper to look through this tender, helpless, young dancer for sale who barely made a sound and saw the spy who was forcefully recruited and imprisoned in a lifetime of espionage, to see Soundwave. And for that, some of them would die paying for their mistake, and some of them did not deserve it.

If only they looked closer, but they didn’t. That noble neutral’s words stung, “he didn’t have a name back then.”

Oh he had a name just that no one was asking. He wanted to say the name aloud, he wanted to call him by his name and have him raise up his lowered helm and answer to it, right in front of every one’s optics, spotlight.

But to his surprise, Soundwave really answered to his call. Even if he didn’t speak a word, the tapedeck was already looking at him like he was reacting to his anger, golden optics wide. He probably was. He was a telepath after all. He probably tasted it in the air miles away. But was he able to sense an anger millions of years away? Whose memory was he really looking at? Who held these optics he was looking through? Whose anger was he being devoured into?

What was Soundwave hiding this time? What was he trying to show him?

Before Optimus could figure it out, someone lifted Soundwave up by the back of his knees. The face of the buyer was an unpleasant blur, only that filthy smile stayed clear. The mech whispered and whined, like a winner showing off to his competitor, Optimus couldn’t catch what he said and couldn’t bring himself to care. His fury toward Soundwave now purely burnt __for__  Soundwave. They passed him around like a drone. No one deserved a brutal murder, just like no one deserved to be handled like a possession. All sentient beings were created equal, should live and die to it alike.

When his fury burnt too hot to contain, he felt urged to do something, to reach for him, when all of a sudden Soundwave opened his mouth and spoke, it was the first line of words he could hear clear enough, it was almost like he was trying to calm down his anger by distracting him.

“There’s no need to fight. The key isn’t expensive, neither am I.” He said. “There will be room for many.”

This statement had the whole crowd burst out laughing so loud it was causing physical pain in Optimus’ audials, or rather not his, some invited guest mech’s audials, a guest to the high caste’s luxurious party, someone who was qualified for bidding yet he still couldn’t figure out who, someone who was allowed solid ground under his feet instead of a tangling white table but still wouldn’t, couldn’t bid for Soundwave’s freedom even just for one night. In the end somehow it hurt more than it should. The pain was so severe it almost felt like it wasn’t his.

He fled the scene like a feather, he turned away from that table and walked in opposite direction as quick as possible while still pretended to be graceful while he moved. He must have tried too hard doing the graceful part for he attracted mechs, who were previously sipping on their expensive booze to come and step in his routine of escape. Polished, delicate digits painted white traced down his broad chasis in a playful fashion. They had him invited to the party, they then had him invited to the after party.

When the after party began next door, he fragged his generous inviter into the berth, into the wall and into the floor, on his own command, like he was a beast on leash, roared in cage to please. It was a nightmare for Optimus, when he slowly came to the realization of what he was really being shown. Between glimpses and screeches, the sight of the firm, strong, grey servos under his optics looked more familiar than ever.

Megatron, he was in Megatron’s memory. He was playing as Megatron this whole time.

Soundwave was clever. Soundwave was considerable. Soundwave was sneaky as pit and tender as freaking slag if he chose to do so for you. Because of course he wouldn’t let Optimus ride in his own mind through all of this, for Primus’ sake what was happening to Soundwave next door was a thousand times more terribly unspeakable than a dozen political assassinations. There was no fragging way he would let the Prime ride through that with him so of course he chose Megatron, because who else would Optimus want to choose if he had to walk through a hall of filthy wealthy nobles who helped ruin the planet he called home since ages ago, if the furious gladiator who rose from the lowest of the low to burn down it all, aka his current lover, was among the options?

When the well-deserved generosity was left by the satiated party host, the glorious gladiator was invited to join the room next door. They wanted to see their dirty imagination come true. They wanted to see a champion gladiator frag a delicate dancer over a small table. Out of some distorted self-esteem issue Megatron followed themj just one step into the room and stopped right there.

Then he snapped. He killed all five nobles in the room within two strikes.

Optimus woke up from this most horrifying nightmare of his entire life panting heavily into the table under him, his tea spilt and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Coolant was dripping to fill the empty saucer again, the white ceramic reminded him of that table, that small, round, white table covered by tablecloth on which Soundwave lied, spread.

Then he pulled away and stood up, towering the real Soundwave from the other side of the table, accused, demanded.

“You said you planned it. You purposely mixed decepticon enemies with Senate’s list to create chaos.” His voice trembling. “It didn’t look like a plan in what you showed me.”

“I never said it was planned from the beginning.”

“So what? Megatron was invited to a rich party to please a sponsor, and you happened to be sent to the same party to assassinate your target. Your plan went well, and so did his. You two pretend you had nothing to do with each other, you did it better than he did. But in the end, he couldn’t, he killed them all, target or non-target alike.”

Optimus tightened his digits on the table. “Then you decide to cover his crime by conducting more? Killing more mechs who weren’t listed on your assignment to make it look better? Then millions of years later, you tell me you planned this, for the sake of a revolution?”

“It was meant to happen one way or another.”

“No one was meant to die like that.”

“You were there.” Soundwave insisted, “You synchronized with Megatron’s feelings perfect enough. You can understand why he did it.”

“I did.” Optimus admitted, he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to stop himself from weeping, “And I really don’t know how to feel about it.”

The spy raised his helm at him, he was a tall mech, but the Prime was taller, and was standing there, while he sat still.

“Are you horrified because you wanted to kill them.” He said, “Or are you horrified because you wouldn’t. ”

Optimus didn’t answer that question, the answer was clear enough to the both of them. The Matrix chose him for being so tenderly soft, for being forever guilty and wondering about choices. Or maybe it was the Matrix’s feeling to begin with, the holy component had been secretly regretting, for tainting its own name by making the wrong choice.

It wasn’t a fair question after all. No one was innocent in this one. They bought a dancer who wasn’t a dancer. They died paying for it. Soundwave was on a job. And Megatron.

“You said, Megatron hates nobles, hates pretending. For millions of years I was trying to find his limit when all this time he had already snapped past it.” The Prime whispered, almost to himself. “You said you explained during the dinner. Were you planning to show me this all along?”

It took Soundwave a while to answer, “Negative.”

“So you aren’t as calculating as they say. A lot of times you just, went with it.” Optimus stroke his own face, “What happened to the nobles who were neither listed on the Senate’s or your list.”

“Those who weren’t involved, I deleted their data from Cybertron database once they fled the planet.”

“Which was why we lost contact of the neutral refugees soon after the war began.”

“Autobots were more likely to gain support from refugees.” Soundwave admitted, “You were striking to gain access back to the Database. I wouldn’t let you get a hold of them.”

“Your accurate predictions never failed to surprise me. You have the missing chunk in your processor all this time. But you didn’t share it with us when the war is over.”

“I was not convinced.”

“Are you convinced now.”

Soundwave lowered his helm. “A little bit.”

Optimus did not stop there, “And why did you let that particular mech go. The noble who runs the restaurant.”

“He was nice.” Soundwave’s voice quiet, “He saw me once or twice, never approached. One day he saw me standing in front of a hotel, he bought me a blanket.”

Optimus looked at him in disbelief, “Just that simple?”

“Just that simple.”

“You should have told me when I asked for your opinion on whether or not he was trustworthy.” The Prime snapped, “I would have trusted your judgement. You needn’t show me all the farce that night.”

“I have no judgement. People change.” Soundwave answered dryly. “I barely know him.”

“But you could have at least told me your opinion yourself.” Optimus took in a long in-vent, “I would have considered it. Or did you think I wouldn’t.”

“It’s not because of you.” The tapedeck plead.

“Then why.”

“Because I couldn’t,” he paused, swallowing hard on nothing, “I can’t bring myself to talk about it.”

It hurt a lot more to hear him admit it. To have the most stoic soldier who fought in the Great War to bend over and fall apart for a bunch of unwanted feelings he buried ages ago. How could he not see this? Why did he assume otherwise? When the answer was jus that simple. When all the answers were all surprisingly simple tonight.

Out of downing grief, he managed to ask. “Did Megatron know you used his memory.”

“Yes.” The decepticon answered, “I asked for his permission.”

“What did he say.”

“He asked me to go easy on you.”

“Did you.”

“I tried.” The telepath admitted, “I lost track of things sometimes when I get emotional.”

What the telepath announced next surprised Optimus to the point his mind went completely blank.

“It was the greatest nigh of my life.” He said.

It took forever for Optimus to understand what he just said, and another forever, another lifetime to really understand what he meant by that. There was a thin line between accepting one’s fate and choosing to face it straight. He wasn’t given a choice by the the Matrix but Optimus knew by his spark that when he chose to lead the army, he chose to fight and that was the real moment he became a Prime. Deep down he knew Megatron too made his choice to fight at some point in his life. For that he respected his archenemy with great passion, for he chose to fight by living through years of thinking, plotting, trying and pining instead of a prophecy and some ridiculous coincidence. But It was a tricky case when it came to Soundwave, he was a spy back then, and still a spy now. Unlike the the others he stood close to those who suppressed the society with visible power, and was directly abused by the rulers of the planet in more than one form. It must have taken great courage. Yet he still made his choice, when his options had always been limited to one.

He chose to become the murderous, cunning spy instead of being one.

And that was the real difference between a Decepticon and an Autobot. Because the Decepticons stood up and chose to fight for themselves, and the Autobots, stood up and chose to fight the Decepticons. For that their intentions became forever incomprehensive to each other. It hurt so much more when you try to understand. Refusal on the other hand, always tasted sweeter.

When his cloudy mind finally began to clear after a million thoughts in a line, he realised he had walked past the table at some point and standing in front of Soundwave with his both servos pressed to the other mech’s rigid shoulders. He was pinning him down, almost in an aggressive way but judging by Soundwave’s face, the tapedeck didn’t mind.

“You are disappointed.” The telepath whispered.

“Yes.” He answered instantly, “In many things.”

“You don’t like what happened, what I think about what happened.”

“No I don’t.” He admitted, “I never will.”

“But you can understand why.”

“I hope I did.” He admitted again, growing more desperate.

“You are disappointed in yourself.” But the telepath persisted, “Don’t be. I brought you another gift.”

Then he took off the visor that covered his optics and let his digit slide down the barcode branded under his left optic. It popped a visual display from his left optic. It was an heavily encrypted contract.

“What is it.” Optimus asked, a lump growing in his spark.

“My contract.” Soundwave explained softly, “Megatron is already on it but it wasn’t written to be an exclusive one. I opened it from my end, so that you can also sign.”

“What contract.” Optimus asked again, almost panicking because he felt like he knew exactly what.

“My ownership contract.” Soundwave explained again, “I can never say I regret what I did. But I can make sure it won’t happen again. What I disappoint you with, you can stop it from happening once and for all. I trust you with it, Optimus Prime. It’s the best I can offer.”

Despite all the feat and uncertainty he was at the beginning of the night, the telepath was now speaking calm and standing firm. He was trying to be as clear as he could, almost like a businessman advertising himself.

“No.” Optimus whispered, he cupped Soundwave’s left eye with one trembling hand to stop it from being projected, “No.” He repeated himself, then he repeated again. “No.”

He leaned close and rested his forehead against Soundwave’s fin. He whispered again from there, stopping the telepath from looking up.

“No.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad English. Bad megop fluff.

The next morning, Soundwave set out to outer Iacon desert with a group of decepticon engineers, a group of engineers who hadn’t any idea they were set out to revive the old defense system, and knew better than to question their silent commander. Soundwave didn’t do his job half-aft only only because he had a hardcore frag between the two leaders of Cybertron that night.

Optimus was tempted to call Megatron when he heard the news from Spec Ops, Prowl was concerned as well, but for different reason.

“Should we find an excuse and call them back? A bunch of decepticons on an ancient weapon system? When did it ever end well?”

Optimus shook his helm, “The operation is theirs and theirs alone according to the Agreement.”

“Losen up, prowler.” Jazz smiled, “The old thing was as dead as old Megan’s rusty interface panel.”

The white sportscar blinked at him when he left with the reluctant cop.

Always the most straightforward factor in the relationship, Megatron called him instead.

“You’re not gonna give my team any trouble today?”

Optimus down straight admitted to him, “Not when Jazz already slipped a finger in your pie.”

“Oh trust me, Soundwave knows exactly where that finger is stirring and baked that slice with newly harvested scraplets eggs.”

The mental image was unnecessarily vivid. Optimus couldn’t hide a smile. “Gross.”

“Said some rusty old truck who still dreams of becoming a monster truck and rule the arena.”

“Doesn’t hurt to dream a little wild.” Optimus huffed, paused and asked. “Is it really a good idea to let him go today.”

Megatron didn’t need to be reminded who he was asking about and why, instead he simply confirmed. “He’s fine.”

“Didn’t look like a fine situation to me last night.”

“Because you panicked, remind you, he didn’t.” Megatron hummed, “The perks of dating a telepath, you don’t need to say the right answer, you just need to think about it.”

Optimus wasn’t convinced, “Among a trillion thoughts?”

“He reads fast.” Megatron joked, then quickly changed the topic. “Fancy a date tonight? It’s just you and me.”

“Sure.” Optimus answered wryly.

They met in the middle of nowhere. When the truck-former drove to the destination, he saw the rigid shadow sitting on a rock in the ruins, humming a happy song to himself. He seemed unable to remember the rest part of the tune, so he kept singing the same bit over and over again. It was silly, but he didn’t seem to mind being heard.

Optimus walked into his soft repeated humming, Megatron must have sensed his arrival a while ago, for he wasn’t surprised to see him, instead, he asked.

“What’s the next line in this song, do you remember more of it?”

Optimus tried, but didn’t make it to the last note, either. It’s been such a long long time.

But Megatron wasn’t particularly disappointed, he showed the way. “Doesn’t matter, we will soon find out.”

It wasn’t until Optimus vaguely recognized the way to the old Iacon library under their pedes, did he finally realized Megatron actually meant it. They were really going to find out soon, if there was still a copy hidden somewhere in the old ruins.

The library was located in one of the still uninhabited area of Iacon. It used to be a beautiful district of gardens and small parks. Now that all the old beauty turned into ashes and dust, half of the library managed to survive to this day. The constructicons took a trip down there, then advised the area to be left alone with a “Keep Out” sign outside.

Optimus was tempted to sneak inside all alone one day, he didn’t plan to do it with Megatron but here they go.

“How often have you been coming down here.” Optimus asked. He was no fool, Megatron knew his way around the place.

“Probably as often as you dreamed about it.” The ex-warlord smirked.

“Didn’t know you learned telepathy.”

“I might have learned a trick of two from Soundwave.”

They climbed into the library hall down a manhole then via the vents. It was pitch black Inside the half-collapsed library. Megatron lit up the way with his built-in miner lights. When the pair of headlights on his helm flickered on, it looked like he just grew an extra pair of blinking optics.

“Do all the miners look adorable like you.” Optimus was genuinely surprised, “Or it’s just you.”

“If you don’t find a book that can teach you one or two decent pickup lines, you might end up cave-in tonight.” Megatron pretended to be not amused.

He then spent half a joor on a library terminal trying to power it up. He got the power on, but couldn’t get the program working.

“It looked easier when Soundwave plugged into it.” He murmured.

“You know the library documents are arranged by a 4-digit naming system.” Optimus began.

“So?” His companion finally turned around for his opinion.

“I actually can recite the whole thing.” The Prime admitted.

Historical section was buried under ruins, and the architecture section was blown into dust, when they reached the music shelf, they found it already sunk into the floor.

“No lyrics and tunes then.” Megatron shrugged. “We still have a few shelves standing. What are they?”

Optimus leaned over and took a look, “Romance.”

They had to settle for the romance novels. Two shelves were squeezed between two collapsing walls, they squeezed between the shelves, leaning to one and resting legs against the other.

“Check this out.” Megatron read aloud under his miner headlight, “’Why did fate do us apart.’ Said Roadlight, his windscreen wipers twitched sadly. ‘Why do you have to be a flyer, and I, forged a grounder!’’”

“The epic forbidden love of speedster Roadlight and seeker Windshed. There used to be tons of badly written romance novels like this.” Optimus commented, “Reminds me of how we used to think flier and grounder sparks were incompatible.”

“Reminds me of my early days in Vos.” Megatron laughed, “They called these books the ‘guilty pleasure’.”

“The pleasure wasn’t theirs alone.” Optimus admitted, he picked up an interesting line from his book too, “How about this. ‘The silent beast lurked in the dark, his teeth shone like diamonds and his optics burnt hole in his prey. People always assumed he was waiting for the right time to strike. If only they knew he only fed on fear.’”

“That funny horror scifi book about sparkeaters.” Megatron announced, “They made it look like documentary and theorized on sparkeater biology. In the mine, some younglings who never saw above ground actually bought these tales. The film was a classic though.” He paused, “What’s this book doing in Romance section?”

“It has a love story in it remember?” Optimus reminded him, “The half-sparkeater hybrid mech and the researcher. The worlds they lived in were too different. It was truly a tragedy.”

“Hmm.” Megatron wasn’t impressed. Maybe he only liked the film. The film did avoid most of the creepy love story part. He recognized a book by Optimus’ shoulder and took it off the shelf, he then read it to Optimus.

“’We must unite to fight for our people.’ Said the Prime. ‘We mustn’t let emotions consume our sparks. Primus granted us life and land. We are hence burdened with the responsibility, to dedicate ourselves, to each other, to every single one of our people, to all of us.’’”

“Nova Prime politely refusing the proposal of his second in command.” Optimus smiled, “No wonder he spent the rest of his life in a dead universe all alone.”

To his surprised, Megatron was offended by his answer. “Oh, so the cheesy fly-grounder romance was epic, the love story of a sparkeater and a scientist was truly a tragedy, but the Prime just deserves whatever he got in the end?”

“That’s two completely different concepts.” The Prime argued, “Nova Prime had it coming. He had all the strength in the world but didn’t even bring himself to say no. The sparkeater was a helpless research project, he had nothing in his servos but he still tried.”

“He tried because he had nothing in his servos.” Megatron pointed it out, “And the Prime sent his people out to safety before he was trapped in the dead universe. The sparkeater ate his lover alive at the end of this book.”

“It was practically his own fault to begin with that the universe was dying.” Optimus didn’t like his conclusion, “The sparkeater was captured and imprisoned. It wasn’t his own fault that he was in the desperate situation.”

“Well Nova Prime didn’t start the war either.” Megatron argued again.

“He did accept the title.” Optimus argued in return. “He didn’t do a good job keeping his universe alive.”

“It’s not like the sparkeater didn’t mess up big time. He had his chance of happy ending when the professor set him free. However, he turned around and ate his lover. I don’t see how that’s a better choice.”

“Well,” Optimus paused, “Nova Prime was legally responsible for the fate of the universe, while eating mechs is just, what sparkeaters do. Really can’t blame him for that.”

“Oh,” Megatron let out a meaningful noise, “so you’re saying, Nova Prime’s story isn’t as tragic because he isn’t a good Prime.”

Optimus sunk to the book shelf behind him. “I see Primus granted you the outstanding ability of twisting words out of my mouth.”

“I did acquire such ability myself. Better counting on yourself than Primus.” Megatron smirked, and sunk into his book shelf too, getting cozy, “And by the way, you are absolutely a better Prime than Nova.”

“Am I.” Optimus murmured, his voice mumbled between the dusty shelves full of romance novels.

“Do I look like I’m gonna date Nova Prime any time soon.” Megatron put down the book onto his crossed knees.

“He’s fictional.” Optimus pointed out.

“Even better.” Megatron commented confidently.

Optimus shifted a little bit, “Didn’t know you do imaginary dates.”

“What else would I do when spending most of my time down the mines.” Megatron laughed. “This book got mixed up with the historic books a lot. I think the designer did it on purpose.”

Optimus was silent for a klik. “So you actually did think about dating him.”

“I thought about dating a Prime when I lived down the mine.” Megatron didn’t bother denying at all, “But not the part in which I dragged him down a manhole and into a vent in the middle of the night in a destroyed Iacon, then do love stories commentary with him sitting between two rusty book shelves.”

“I’m honored.” Optimus admitted unironically.

Megatron gazed him in the dim light of his own headlights. Then he tapped the cover of his knee with one finger.

“I remember the song now.” He said. Then he began humming the song again, he managed to get to the last part this time, but couldn’t figure out the tune quite well.

“Hang on, I think I remember it too.” Optimus picked it up and hummed along, he got the tune right, but the lyrics he remembered were rather different in the second part.

“Does it have different versions.” Megatron wondered. “In Tarn, it was about the moons in the second part.”

“The one I heard here around Iacon, the second part was about the old palace.” Optimus recalled. “But Iacon is a big city. I was once told the Southen Iacon had a slightly different version.”

“City mechs.” Megatron rolled his optics, “I’d rather sleep under the moons than sleeping in the palace.”

Optimus didn’t disagree, he crossed his knees the way Megatron did and relaxed his back.

“I’d say it’s more than comfy sleeping between book shelves with you.”

“Good.” Megatron praised, “The first decent pickup line in a lifetime.”

The way he swung his helm lit up the books beside his head lights. Something caught Optimus attention, and he reached for it. It was a classic, one of his favorites. He opened the book with his memory.

“’The noble carefully examined his newly purchased slave. The mech was strong build. His strong limbs and broad chest proudly announced themselves. The ex-gladiator in the cage was the golden legend in the arena. The tragedy of all the undefeatable champions was their fall. And when this one falls, he fell right into this cage, where he quietly waited for his hopeless fate to arrive, yet with eyes burning of fire.’”

“It’s the ’Sparks of the Pits’.” Megatron commented neutrally. “I see I wasn’t the only one with some fantasies.”

“So you’ve read it too.” Optimus lowered the book.

“Not much, but enough to know they fragged in the next page.” Megatron said.

“The next chapter.” Optimus corrected him.

“OK, next chapter.” Megatron nodded absentmindedly, “The book was famous for being quite erotic.”

“And its idealistic happy ending.” Optimus tapped the book, “The noble gave up his title and ran away with the gladiator. They lived the rest of their lives as lovers and equals.”

“Very idealistic indeed.” Megatron admitted. “Some say it would have sold more copies if had a different ending.”

“People are usually willing to do a lot for the things that break them.” Optimus agreed. “Sometimes they find it out the hard way.”

“Promise me don’t try smarting me tonight.” Megatron huffed.

Optimus let out a relieved sigh. “I thought you would have more comments on this book.”

“Why? Because you joined me fragging a client’s processor out in Soundwave’s mind last night?” Megatron didn’t seem to care.

“You are never embarrassed for once in your life are you?” Optimus commented, “I did expect it to get your nerves.”

“I have regrets in my life. Many regrets.” Megatron admitted. “But unlike Soundwave, I have no shames.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” Optimus smiled weakly.

“No one expect you to feel the same as me.” Megatron was still as care-free as ever, “It’s too late if you want to join the Decepticons. The recruitment closed a while ago.” But he paused there, and asked. “What can you say then.”

“That I’m sad for what you had to been through.” Optimus replied.

“Good. Pity. You’re pitying me.” Megatron nodded, “If I’m not on a date with you right now, I’d be punching you so hard you’d be looking for your own helm on the floor.”

“Lucky me.” Optimus smiled. “And what can I do to repay you for your generosity.”

“How about you read me more of your favourite novel.” Megatron suggested, “I’m sure you remember all the juicy parts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Libraries are nice.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big boys explored the ruins.

When the treaty was reached by both parties and they arrived in the rusty ruins that used to be called Iacon once again, Optimus believe if he’d ever have to take a trip down the unrepairable parts of the city, it would be a heartbreaking journey, but in the end, it was far from it.

Their adventures among the ruins did not stop at one night. The nights that followed, whenever the dusk fell, he was drawn to the ruins. Or Megatron, or both. It was indeed, a guilty pleasure.

Megatron is a very tolerable mech when he chose to be one. Even better, he knew all the morbid tricks around a dead city. The old candy store still had this giant billboard shaped into a giant candy bar. It obviously took a cannon shot at some point ages ago and the cracked corner made it look like someone just bit a mouthful off it. Megatron wouldn’t stop laughing for a whole joor, and Optimus never met someone whose laughter was more infectious than his.

Rather not laugh his own venting pumps to malfunction, Optimus decided to distract him from it.

“Wheeljack was studying the old recipes the other day.” he said, walking with his still laughing companion.

“And how many kitchens did he fry by the end of the day?” Megatron was amused.

“Surprisingly none. But Prowl found Cliffjumper in his cooking pan.”

“What a tragedy.” Megatron grieved, “He was a decent soldier for his size.”

“He wasn’t cooked.” Optimus explained patiently, “Not yet.”

“A bigger tragedy.” Megatron huffed disappointedly, “I’d love to know what he tastes like.”

“I believe the feeling is mutual.” Optimus commented.

“Tell him my flesh is only reserved for my intended.”

“And who would that be.” Optimus smiled.

“Who do you think he would be?” Megatron didn’t pause a step, he laughed his way to the top of a pile of spiky scraps. He turned around on the high peak with a playful smirk on his face. “Soundwave, of course. Who else can read my spark like an open book?”

“That makes two of us.” Optimus returned his challenge. “Because who else can keep up with my dance?”

“Rivalry, from you.” Megatron looked thrilled, “Oh I miss this part of my life. Tell you what, I think I’m the better student of his.”

“Are you?” Optimus pretend to be thoughtful of his conclusion, “I seem to remember you embraced the stage last time we danced.”

“It was a lovely stage.” Megatron laughed, “I couldn’t resist its temptation.”

“I intended to be the more irresistible one.” Optimus let out a fake sigh, “Guess I failed.”

“The great Optimus Prime, ruthlessly defeated by a dance stage.” Megatron nodded, “It truly is a night full of tragedies. But don’t worry. A rematch always sells more tickets than the original fight.”

“A second chance.” Optimus slowly climbed up the mountain of scraps to his side. “I don’t have enough of those in my life.”

“Don’t everyone?” Megatron offered a hand and pulled him up.

The mountain of scraps paved steps to the roof of a collapsed mansion. It was hard to tell what the mansion was once used for, only that it really had a fairly broad rooftop.

“It think it used to be a garden.” Optimus suggested.

“A garden.” Megatron wasn’t impressed, “On top of a mansion.”

“Real estate in CBD. They used to put more walls to divide a floor’s space in order to sell more slots.” Optimus carefully examined the shattered crystal plants, “What’s it like in Tarn.”

“Broad shady land.” Megatron kicked away layers of misshaped metal plates, “Tall dark towers. You hear more tires than pedes everyday. It mumbled between the walls.”

“Sounds like you like that voice.”

“I did.” Megatron bent down to grab something from the pile of scrap metal he was working on, “It always sounded like there was a strong wind passing by. I liked that.”

Optimus looked at him from behind. His optics silently laid on his back.

“We can take a look there some day.” He said, “It’s not that far.”

“Of course it isn’t far.” Megatron huffed. “The war would have been easier to end if it was.”

Optimus nodded in frustration and tried to find something else to say, when Megatron laughed even louder and raised something from the pile of scrap he was working on.

“Look what I found.” He announced. “I thought I heard something.”

It was an old radio, and still weakly transmitting by the looks of it. Miner builds are sensible to weak signal transmitters so that they could keep in touch with other miners and the command center above ground even miles down the tunnel. So this was what Megatron came all this way for.

Things of smaller size are more likely to survive bombing attacks, all soldiers learnt it the hard way. It wasn’t that surprising that an ancient radio survived the war. But it would be more than a miracle if the battery wasn’t dead after millions of years. They were probably wondering about the same thing.

“It’s plugged.” After examining the back of the radio Optimus concluded. “I think it’s powered by a landline.”

“Let’s find out.” Megatron pulled out the plug and held the said landline in hand.

They followed the line all the way up and down the mansion. All the windows were cracked wide open, welcoming them with open arms and sharp teeth. They climbed into the abandoned mansion. Megatron turned on the radio on battery mode, it offered a flickering beam to light up the way.

It didn’t take them long to realize the nature of the mansion. It was a hospital of sort, equipped with all kinds of life supporting machines that back in the days, required constant power input. All hospitals had spare generators. It went online when the powerplant went down and kept running ever since, pumping electricity to the only recipient, a radio. The radio was a power-saving model, it didn’t consume much fuel even after millions of years.

They stood in front of the still mumbling engine, wondering what it might feel like, to sit here all alone in a ruined home when there was a war ranging on lightyears deep into the galaxies.

When Optimus was still wondering, Megatron turned it off. The dusty hall went quiet instantly. Something was dripping in the collapsed walls drop by drop.

“Some of your Iacon engineers keep me amazed these days.” Megatron commented.

“Agreed.” Optimus nodded, “I wonder if I’ve ever met one of them.”

The radio’s front light changed color again, one of the old-fashioned tricks. Megatron put it down on top of the generator.

“If only we still have a channel.” He sighed.

Optimus walked up to it and turned on the tuner. The statics hit the silence, then got turned down. The truck-former rotated the tuner with great caution, trying to figure it out.

Megatron might have picked up something before he did.

“Keep going.” He said.

When he hit the spot, something was bickering behind the statics. He tuned the second button then turned up the volume. The melody became clear. It was a song without lyrics.

“What is it.” Megatron asked, astonished.

“Blaster.” Optimus explained. “He and Hound are maintaining the old signal tower. The old channel was tapped on for test till tomorrow afternoon. I thought he’s probably playing a song instead of a plain pulse.”

“The only functioning radio on this entire planet is the one at Swerve’s bar and everyone’s using it as a CD player. Your communications officer is more stupid than I thought.” Megatron commented, “But Primus bless him. We just found the second one.”

The music went on between them for a long while. Neither of them could recognize the song it was playing. Blaster knew more about Earthly pop culture even than Jazz. This might be something popular back on Earth.

“I’m thinking,” Optimus began hesitantly, “a rematch can be arranged if you’re available.”

“I think I’m available.” Megatron hummed as he took his hand.

 

The nights that followed, they met in front of the generator. The old radio began to mumble after a few days, its eons-old battery iwas finally running low. Blaster’s song was still on the channel.

Megatron showed up with fuel. They tangled their feet sitting on the windows. The last night was extra windy.

“You know I wondered why the Decepticons didn’t march into these deserted districts.” Optimus admitted, his mouth touching the edge of the bottle. “Now I guess I know why. It’s your private territory.”

He paused between sips. “Did you map these districts yourself.”

“Myself and Soundwave.” Megatron didn’t hesitate to answer his question, he turned his optics from the moons to the Prime, “Or just Soundwave. The residential area is noisy for his ability. He has the tendency to search for hiding places around. He ran in and I followed.”

Optimus raised the bottle in his hand, “I suppose you bumped into a cellar one night.”

“Among many other things.” Megatron took a mouthful of his own drink. “It wasn’t as pretty as one would have imagined.”

Optimus nodded, but said nothing.

“I got a message from Soundwave today by the way.” Megatron broke the silence, “He sent his greetings. All’s going well. Phase one is almost completed. The team will head back for supplies as planned.”

“I suppose he also sent you a name list of engineers for phase two of the project.” Optimus commented, “And not one single name remains the same as on the new name list.”

“Different groups of mechs, working on the same project, for short periods of time each. You know the drill.” Megatron sighed, “Secrecy. Typical Soundwave.”

Optimus turned his helm to look at the night sky, “The more I stay with him, the more I realize what a perfect spy he is.”

“That’s Soundwave to you.” Megatron smirked.

Optimus put his bottle on his chest, right above his windshield glass. “How did you deal with it.”

“Define it.”

Optimus made a pointing gesture, “Domesticity and conspiracy.”

“Why do I have to deal with it when he’s desperately dealing with it himself.” Megatron wasn’t impressed, “And isn’t it everyone’s problem these days.”

“Fair point.” Optimus let out a sigh. He put down the bottle to his side, the liquid wriggled in the bottle between the two of them, “You know, I just realize you didn’t announce the winner the other day.”

“Of the dance?” Megatron took the wriggling bottle and drank a mouthful, “Of course I won.”

“I thought you were the judge.”

“Too bad.” Megatron laughed, “I might as well be the reward. But since I defeated you, this part is yours.”

“A reward.” Optimus held his own chin as if he was thinking it through, “Before I terribly humiliate myself in front of the audience, may I be instructed on my duties.”

Megatron swallowed a gulp of his fuel, “Didn’t you read enough about it?”

So _Sparks of the Pits_ it is. The famous and infamous gladiatorial erotica bible of the golden age had such a variety of scenario, on the floor, in the kitchen, down in the pool, up in the sky, inside a cage, and outside a high window, for every lusting optic below.

“Do you think someone might be looking.” Optimus asked hesitantly.

Megatron didn’t really expect him to go with it, but he still teased along.

“Why? You’ve got something to hide?”

“I can’t think of any myself.” Optimus let out a blatant laugh, “But I might want to hide yours from all other eyes.”

“Oh I can’t think of any myself either.” Megatron leaned over, “You want to elaborate?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optimus is thinking about hiding Megatron's spike *somewhere*


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Bad English. Failed humour. Fingering.  
> Mostly just Megop doing it on the window.

The window was an inconvenient place until it wasn’t. Megatron spent almost a joor burying his helm between his thighs when Optimus sat on the edge of the window.

He was leaking transfluids all over the dirty old wall, Megatron had a skillful glossa.

“I think it’s well-prepared now.” He had to hiss between his denta.

“You showed me a lovely place to hide some treasure.” Megatron wasn’t even raising his helm from his handy work, the hot air hit his exterior node every word he spoke, “I realize it’s full of sweet treasure already. I have to take some out. I have a massive share myself.”

“It’s,” Optimus gritted his teeth, Megatron was licking his outer node again, “It’s plenty of space.”

“Is it?” Megatron breathed hot against his entrance.

“Yes.” Optimus pledged.

“Oh.” Megatron raised his helm, his mouth finally leaving his gaping fold, “So it can take more than it looks like.”

It was a filthy suggestion, smelling of a trap. Optimus wasn’t far-gone enough to jump right in, but the moment of his hesitation was already too long. His valve missed the stimulus.

So he admitted his defeat, “How about you find out for yourself.”

Megatron’s grin shone bright. “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

He brushed two digits on his fold, stroking the trembling mesh, catching more transfluid between his fingers, then brushed it on his node before he let go. The way the tip of his finger trailed down his node was magnificently tormenting. Optimus had to lock his own joints to stop himself from arching for that finger.

“You gotta put in to find out.” He finally reminded.

“I’m thinking,” Megatron almost sounded genuine, if only his fingers weren’t bounding around his dripping mesh, “How many digits should I put in there.”

“You can start with one.” Optimus tried not to sound too pushy, “If you’re not sure.”

“Oh.” There was something evil about the way Megatron nodded, “I was just thinking since you just told me it can take more than it looks like. Maybe I shouldn’t start with one.” His digits now circling the entrance.

And Optimus gasped. He almost shouted out, “Then two!”

“Two is a good number.” Megatron agreed, but did nothing more than putting a little bit more pressure on his entrance. Optimus was still hesitating when he felt the fingers on his exterior node leaving again, and this time they weren’t coming back. A klik was already too long. He felt cold down there, like his slit was another mouth choking on nothing.

“How about three.” He whispered, couldn’t even recognize his own voice, “They say three is the charm.”

Three digits lined up to his entrance. The way how fast Megatron just reacted to his answer gave out his own anxious state. But he still took his time to rub the third finger wet with transfluid, lubing it up for his next move, making sure all three digits would be all well-prepared for Optimus.

“Three it is then.” He asked.

“Three it is.” Optimus nodded.

So three it was. He felt those three fingers nibbled the rim of his entrance, then he was pushed open by the tip of a middle finger, two more followed behind but not quite entering. The middle finger wasted no time to start stroking his overheating inner mesh, however the index and ring fingers stopped to massage the rigid edge when they were met with resistance on their way. Optimus gasped when he sensed the full stop of the entering, if only he knew Megatron intended to go this gentle on him, he would have said four.

Or even five.

He tightened his grip on the window frame. And it cracked.

“Someone’s eager.” Megatron raised his optics in an actually warning way, “Stop that. The window frame isn’t as stable as it looks.”

Optimus was almost on his way to chase those fingers, practically trying to frag himself on those. Giving that he was still sitting on the window, it wasn’t the smartest move. Megatron had to hold him still with his other hand to put him back to place, and when he finally stilled, Megatron patted him.

“Hold still soldier.” He reassured.

“Easy said than done.” Optimus argued breathlessly. He couldn’t finish the whole sentence because Megatron pushed in. Three digits forcing open his dripping fold and scissoring their way deeper, rubbing every node on the way.

He almost fell off the window, but was caught by Megatron’s other hand.

“I’d expect you to jump on my spike instead of my fingers.” Megatron laughed.

“Giving the situation here I can totally jump on your arm.” Optimus growled.

He could swear he heard Megatron swallowed on nothing.

“You really are not lying about hiding me from all other eyes.” He finally agreed.

“I think,” Optimus no longer held his chase for those so-not-moving fingers, “I think I can understand Soundwave’s desire to stuff your entire frame inside his body perfectly well now.”

Now it was Megatron’s turn to growl, “Prime I swear if you don’t stop right here you are gonna pay for dirty-talking Soundwave-style.”

“I’m not the one who stopped” Optimus protested desperately while trying to impale himself more onto those well-lubricated digits. But Megatron was obviously more bother by his words than he assumed, his last word ended up being whispered into the ex-warlord’s mouth. Megatron kissed him hard and deep with great passion.

The kiss lasted for a long time, long enough to have their sparks sucked up to the very tip of their tongues and spark-merge right there. Three digits turned to four when they finally broke away from each other. Neither of them had it in him to banter some more. Megatron continue to finger his valve with a certain pace. The window frame Optimus was sitting on was getting slippery by all the transfluid between his thighs. He squirmed to stay still, and this time, Megatron was too busy to help.

“Plenty of room?” Megatron teased between his teeth.

“Damn it Megatron.” Optimus snapped, “It’s not like you need that much of space!”

“Maybe I don’t.” Megatron announced, “But you just enjoy making more and more room for me anyway.”

Optimus was already breaking the rusty window by his grip, “Yes I do!”

This time Megatron actually ended up laughing, and when he was done laughing he realized Optimus was literally clutching on the windows, shaking, with transfluid pumping out of his valve between his four fingers buried in there.

“Did you just.” He asked, after waiting for Optimus to pass through the aftershock, but he didn’t really finish the question. “Primus.” He said.

“You were vibrating.” Optimus lowered his helm and snarled, “Remind me to let go of any part of you next time you laugh.”

Silence spread between them as the transfluid dripped down.

“Then do you still want to” Megatron began awkwardly.

“Yes.” Optimus cut him up with ironic politeness in his tone, “Yes, please.”

And finally Megatron slid open his pelvis panel. His pressurized spike bounced to its full glory and as if the situation wasn’t awkward enough, it hit the Optimus’ left thigh.

“You sure you want to hide this?” Megatron asked.

“Till you never find it ever again.” Optimus confirmed.

Megatron had a fabulous spike. He knew enough of that when he licked it all the way up in that wuthering cabinet in the desert. He took it in the valve when he was reading Soundwave’s memory through telepathic link. He even used it once himself when he staged as the younger, powerless version of Megatron in his own memory flux. For a mech who was about to take his lover’s spike for the very first time in his life, he surely was more experienced than he should be.

Yet it still felt foreign and raw, when it pushed in, filling up the space he made, they made just for this moment. His calipers squeezed hungrily to greet his newly-found treasure. Welcome to your private self-storage room.

They panted against each other’s audial fins when the tip of the spike finally met the ceiling node. They were both holding it back at the best. Optimus was still shaken by the unexpected overload he had earlier, hanging on the string of overstimulation, and Megatron was probably trying to contain himself since he was acting care-free fragger till this moment but could hardly do it any longer.

“You are,” Megatron stuttered, “You are one pit of a locker.”

“I’m the fragging truck who might just drive through the window and crash downstairs with the cargo.” Optimus growled angrily, “If you don’t hurry the frag up.”

“Oh don’t worry you’ll get to that crashing part,” Megatron wrapped both arms around Optimus’ waist and pinned him to the window frame he was sitting on, “but before that, save your Cause some fuel and fill this truck to the fragging cargo capacity.”

With that he pulled out halfway and pushed in full length. Optimus didn’t know what he was expecting but he definitely didn’t expect him to literally smash his ceiling node. He felt impossibly big, even bigger than when he had it in his mouth.

“You fragging mass-displacing…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He had no idea where he was going. Megatron kept smashing his words into pieces by his monstrous spike.

“Breath!” Megatron ordered.

Optimus slammed both of his hands from the crushed window frame to Megatron’s silver shoulders. And they instantly cranked.

Megatron roared in pain and lifted his entire body up from the window by his waist then smashed him to what was left of the window glass. When his spike pushed in again, Optimus smashed the rest of the glass and climbed to the steeling cross like his life depended on it. His life really depended on it. But neither of them seemed to care.

“You are too fragging tight!” Megatron scolded, “Loosen up, Prime!”

“You are too fragging big!” Optimus shouted right back at him, “Shrink down Megatron!”

Then Megatron did quite the contrary as what he was instructed and dropped Optimus right down onto his spike while thrusting up. Optimus could swear he saw stars in his peripheral vision. He gave it all up and accepted his fate as the self-storage locker for Megatron’s spike. Be careful what you wished for. The steeling cross behind him made its last whimper then excused itself. The terrifying sound of the big piece of metal hitting the ground behind them in the middle of the night caught no one’s attention. Optimus fell off the window along with it, but in the opposite direction. Megatron was quick to catch him, the truck-former wrapped his legs around Megatron’s waist and launched himself onto his lover.

“Damn it Megatron!” He cursed.

He was answered by Megatron’s iconic laughter. The ex-warlord peeled him right off and pinned his shoulders onto the edge of the window platform where he could find nothing to hold onto. He scratched against the wall below the window but it was well-lubricated by his own transfluid from their foreplay. He caught one of Megatron’s arm instead like it was his last straw. When he used his other arm to line up to the window and pull himself up, Megatron grabbed both of his thighs and pushed them all the way up against his own shoulders.

Optimus sobbed and whined at the same time.

“Loosen up.” Megatron bent down his helm to whisper in his audials, his voice hoarse and his words demonic, “Prime.”

This time, Optimus did what he was told. He relaxed himself in Megatron’s heavy grip. It felt like having all his nodes activated at the same time. He could tell it felt equally amazing to Megatron, when he suddenly reached hungrily for his lips, eating it like a starving turbofox with its last meal in the death dream.

Optimus reached up with both of his servos, giving up entirely to find whatever he could hold onto. Megatron was holding him up with both of his servos. And Optimus had to touch for him. They had more, they should have more, more than just the spike in the valve. Optimus caressed his chest with equally passionate hunger, he trailed his digits along his seams, into the gap of his platings, and the wires around his neck cables.

Megatron licked the corner of his lips, whispered, “Primus made you” when it was exactly what Optimus was trying to say, if only he could still speak.

Then Megatron kissed him. It felt like their first kiss ever. It felt they’ve never kissed, or been kissed before. It felt something just broke the shell and started growing. It felt like new.

They were still kissing when they climaxed, despite all the violent, dangerous movements they did during this intense session, the overload was sweet and gentle when it blossomed between them. They held onto each other to let it pass, Megatron’s spike buried deep inside Optimus, well-hidden like he promised before.

The aftershock was a pleasant wave washing over their frames. They enjoyed like enjoying the moonlight.

“Did I fulfill my duty.” Optimus asked, his voicebox still recovering.

“Adequately.” Megatron let out a sigh, “I can’t wait for you to lose a fight again.”

“That can be arranged.” Optimus laughed.

A cracking noise above them drew the attention from the both of them. They both raised their helms to see what it was. They caught the sight of a falling window.

 

“So,” Ratchet sent Optimus a skeptical look putting down the report of the scan, “a window crushed his back.”

“Yes.” Optimus nodded anxiously.

“And why was a window involved in your interface.”

“What interface.” Optimus lied.

“OK, no interface.” Ratchet gave him a Ratchet look. “Then did you lubricate your own valve during masturbation? When Megatron crushed his back by a window right next to you?”

Optimus was at loss of words.

“I thought so.” Ratchet nodded again. His unusual calmness this time crept Optimus out. The ambulance took something off his office shelf and handed it to the Prime.

“What is it?” Optimus asked.

“A brief instruction on safe interface. And safe-handling of personal kinks, including demonstrations on the usual ones, with tutorial illustrations.”

“No I can’t take this.” Optimus returned the datapad as if it was a gift too expensive for his creation day.

“I’m not asking for your opinion.” Ratchet deadpanned.

“I can take it.” Megatron mumbled from the medbay next door. “Doesn’t make much difference.”

Ratchet gave Optimus another skeptical look. Optimus nodded, trying to avoid eye contact as much as he could.

“I’ll read it.” The Prime compromised.

“You’d better.” The ambulance said. “Now excuse you two because I want to get some real sleep before it’s time for the real morning and some real patients.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet thinks his day can't get worse. He's wrong.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I last updated.  
> Warnings: mentiions of injuries and honey trap as spy activities. Bad English. Sleep-deprived author.

Optimus nervously waited until his friend disappeared into the hallway then rushed to Megatron’s berth.

“Soundwave will kill me when he’s back.”

“Too bad,” Megatron hissed from pain, “He’ll be here in one day at most. You have less than one day of life left.”

“Do you think he’ll let me die an easy death if I give him a welcome-back hug first.”

The term welcome-back hug was somehow intensely amusing to Megatron, even his aching back couldn’t stop him from laughing his vocalizer out. They were enjoying themselves when someone busted the door, Ratchet was carrying a bleeding Soundwave inside followed by an overwhelmingly upset Hook.

“Soundwave.” Megatron sat up, seeing Soundwave wasn’t in state to talk, he turned for Hook, who was in much better shape, but obviously wasn’t prepared to meet his lord this soon, “What happened.”

“Surgery first.” Ratchet ordered, he pointed one finger at Hook, “You come with me. I need you to tell what procedure did you already take.”

The three of them disappeared into the surgery room, Megatron attempted to follow but Optimus pinned him down. Hook came out of the surgery room after a few breems. The face of Megatron was terrifying him. He wouldn’t come closer.

“We were ambushed.” He swallowed.

“By who.” Megatron paused, “How many were injured.”

“Five.” Megatron’s unusual calm state seemed to have some positive effect on the engineer, he was talking more like himself this time, “But no one else is in critical state. The gears we brought for weapon system reparation was enough to allow me to perform emergency treatment on the others. We managed to cover it up.”

“Cover it up.” Optimus cut in.

“Yes,” Hook took a glace at the Prime and a hint of sass slid into his tone, “Cover it up. It’s a secret mission. Decepticon-exclusive. Still is by the way.”

“Soundwave ordered such deeds.” Megatron spat it out, more like a reluctant explanation for the the Autobot. “He must have ordered the Constructicons to treat the injured mechs on sight then march back to Iacon as planned. Pass the guards like nothing happened. He had himself transported here because his injury was gonna give it out. We’ll have to repair him enough to let him secretly join the troop by tomorrow.”

“His condition doesn’t look like a one-day healing case.” Optimus commented with a frown, “I take it you mean, on the outside.”

“Yes.” Hook nodded eagerly. “Exactly.”

Optimus was silent for a moment, then acknowledged the conclusion, “I’ll have Prowl arrange for trusted mechs on guard duty tomorrow. They’ll let it go smoothly without getting the news out.”

“Only if we know there’s no inside man among your ranks.” Megatron reminded.

Optimus looked offended for a brief klik but managed to not let it get the better of him. “Only high ranks of both sides know about the mission. Whichever side this mech is on, it’s heavy burden on our fragile alliance.” He turned for Hook, “How many attackers did you see.”

“Ten at least.” Hook answered.

Optimus raised his helm and met Megatron’s optics on his way, they were probably thinking about the same thing. Ten attackers on a high-profile secret mission. Neither side can afford a group of ten soldiers and manage to move them out of the city without causing any attention easily. But the city guards were autobots. No wonder Megatron had his suspicions.

“Or if they were already outside to begin with.” Optimus proposed.

Hook seemed to have more objections to make but it was the moment Ratchet turned off the surgery light and walked out of the room.

“He’s conscious.” The medic pointed at the door. “Did no one tell you transforming mass-displacing mechs with severe frame damage is highly risky?”

“How else am I supposed to carry him back here without getting shot on sight by one of your Autobot guards.” Hook protested.

Megatron waved him away, “Ratchet, find him a room to hide. Hook, I suggest you go take some rest. Very quietly.”

It was Ratchet’s turn to protest but the Decepticon engineer fled the scene with no more question asked.

Walking into the medbay and seeing a weak Soundwave right out of a surgery gave the both leaders vivid déjà vu. The tapedeck surely was having a bad time recently. But he remained conscious, obviously he knew more than Hook did.

“You did good.” Megatron began with his compliment. “Who is leading the team right now.”

“Deadlock.” Soundwave monotoned.

Megatron nodded to himself, “He’s a good one.” Then he continued. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were setting out for our trip back in the morning.” Soundwave began, his voice barely a whisper. “We were ambushed not far from the underground defense system command console. I picked up their signal first. We outnumber them but they were better equipped with weapons, so I ordered our people to run in separate ways and later all report to Deadlock’s coordinates.”

A smaller but better equipped troop might stand big chance defeating a larger group of poorly trained engineers, but their chance of winning would be minimized if they were given too many targets. If the attackers were after the location of the hidden console, dividing their own troop would also confuse their enemy about the true location of their target. Besides, the majority of the attackers would choose to follow Soundwave.

And that was probably how Soundwave ended up seriously banged up. If they had a thousand target, the highest command would be on top of the list, not to mention he was the top information specialist to begin with. If anyone on the secret mission knew more than the others, Sounewave was the one fat bite on the cake.

“You baited them.” Megatron sighed. “So the data copy and the map isn’t with you I assume.”

“Our team is trustworthy.” Soundwave repeated.

“Then who leaked the routine of this mission.” Megatron questioned.

“Were you followed on your way to the command console.” Optimus guessed.

“Negative.” Soundwave firmly denied such possibility. “The attackers: were surprised to see us. Target of interest: map of Iacon underground facilities stored in remote command console.”

“Outsiders. They are trying to get in.” Optimus quickly came to the most reliable conclusion. “We need a name list of rogues who went missing during the war.”

“Go find your list of Autobots first. Don’t you see the Deception communications officer is supposedly not in Iacon’ right now.” Megatron waved him off. “Give Starscream the rough coordinates of the command console. He’ll know what to do.”

“You are not gonna tell him this yourself?” Optimus sighed.

“Save me the trouble.” Megatron rolled his optics at the Prime, “You broke my back by the way. I’m staying in this medbay today.”

Soundwave’s visor lit up when he heard Optimus broke Megatron’s back. Optimus had to pretend he didn’t notice it.

“Starscream will be thrilled to rule the Decepticon cause.” The Prime imagined.

“Good for him and good luck to you.” Megatron nodded, “Now leave us alone.”

Optimus gave Soundwave a worried look, knowing why the two Decepticons would like to be alone right now, he fled the medbay as soon as he could.

When they were finally alone, Megatron let out a frustrated sigh and relaxed his aching back into the chair.

“Did you get yourself into this.” He cursed.

Soundwave went silent and his visor dimmed.

“Alright,” Megatron looked defeated, “You do know Optimus isn’t a fool, do you? Neither am I by the way.”

He laid both of his arms on his knees and stretched his legs. He was silent for a long moment, waiting for Soundwave’s answer but wasn’t offended when he received nothing.

“Optimus might be traumatized by the request you made the night before you left. But I know you better than he ever did,” He paused meaningfully, “Soundwave, hear me out. You don’t always get to deal with the hard part of my life. When are you gonna live for yourself?”

“You think I don’t get it that you’re trashing Optimus with your terrible past to distract him from mine?”

Silence bite. And it bit the emptiness between them and inside them. Medics might assume it hurt the most when it hit low. But it hurt the worst when it hit the pure nothingness. Echo had always been the worst kind of sound.

“I’m,” The tapedeck finally talked, “I’m glad to see you two got along without me.”

Megatron snorted nervously, “We worked hard on that.”

“I was worried when I left your signal range.” Soundwave admitted, “I was worrying that I might return to Iacon and find the planet at war again.”

Megatron made a suspicious sound like a smug yet regretful huff. “Not gonna lie to you but we had more fun than planned to during your absence.”

“Including the broken back bit?”

“That was fun too.” Megatron admitted, he put a digit over his lips, “But never tell him I said that.”

 

Starscream made an internal announcement in the Seeker-exclusive channel immediately when he was informed of the incident by Optimus.

“Can’t believe you and the rusty bucket head are plotting behind my back.” The seeker’s optics shone like a tamed turbofox who didn’t know it’d been craving for raw, juicy food. “Tell me Prime, who brought in the information. And what is hidden under the sand at the coordinates you gave me.”

“I’m afraid it’s only Megatron’s right to answer your questions.” The Prime lied gracefully, “I as the leader of the Autobots, have to comply with the truce agreement.”

An seeker aerial team was gathered in the blink of an eye and Starscream was eager to find out the answer to his questions himself. The seekers never do anything quiet in their entire life. The whole city heard their booming engines from below.

Megatron commed him soon afterwards.

:Good to hear this noise is still as old as ever. Some things never change.:

:Are your Decepticons not even suspecting treachery hearing this?: Optimus paused. :How did your talk go.:

:Oh treachery is just another Decepticon day. I got a name out of Soundwave’s overly tight lips. Look up the name Scorpnok.:

:What did you do with those overly tight lips of his by the way.:

:More like, what I’m doing with those overly tight lips right now.:

Megatron’s smugness was conductive. Optimus was under the impression that Soundwave knew more about the truth than he was telling.

They had Soundwave and Hook join the rest of the returners by next dawn. Optimus had Jazz hack Prowl’s schedule and arranged for Soundwave’s temporary escape. Ratchet went with him to check their injuries. Deadlock was a young, solemn warrior with a straight face. He was no engineer or technician. It was obvious that Soundwave picked him in case of current situation.

“I’ll see what I can do before you enter the border.” Ratchet sighed. “You’ve got room for a smuggler my size?”

“We are disguised as the standard exploration team.” Deadlock explained, “One of the measuring instrument container is empty.”

It went well. The Decepticon team returned as planned and was received as an exploration team. Soundwave was called to report to Megatron’s quarters immediately, for proper medical treatment this time of course.

“So, Scorpnok.” Jazz leaned to the wall, “He’s kind of a neutral if he’s still alive.”

“Any idea of his whereabouts?” Optimus asked.

“Never tried digging his story.” Jazz shook his helm, “He was last seen teamed up with some rogue decepticons who turned pirates. He’s the kind of mech you don’t want around when Iacon is a messy construction site.”

“He’s a mech of unusual alt-mode.” Optimus recalled, “And unusual mods.”

“I can reach out to my fellow spies and see what we can find.” Jazz stood up, “But Optimus, I think there’s an easier way. Scorpnok was a Decepticon. Soundwave must know more than he let on. He’s not keeping it from Megatron right now by the looks of it. I suggest you start from him, seeing that you’re probably on his cassette-to-be list now, too.”

Optimus crossed his fingers, “Jazz, our personal relationship has nothing to do with the political treaties we deal with. I can’t seduce the information I want out of a romantic partner.”

“Welcome to the world of spies.” Jazz shrugged with a smile.

And Optimus was persuaded. Or at least he wouldn’t let Megatron enjoy those overly tight lips alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave's lips are very tight. You don't even get to see them very often since 1986.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy like hell recently....  
> But finally, here's the new chapter!

When Ratchet returned, every neighbor of his clinic was murmuring about what could have removed Ratchet from his daily duties. Did he get laid yesterday?

And Ratchet refuse to let Optimus pay him any visit during the day.

“You show up with a bunch of flowers at my door this time? I’m gonna be your third boyfriend in the betting pool by tomorrow.” Ratchet roared over the line.

“Then I won’t bring a bunch of flowers.” Optimus compromised.

“Still not in question.”

“How about I bring another guest.” Optimus suggested.

There was a long pause on the other side of the line.

“That might work.” Ratchet eventually agreed. “But house rule number one, guests with manners only.”

Optimus showed up at the door of the medbay by dawn. He was early, but Deadlock was earlier for the appointment. The white-coloured Decepticon warrior still looked as stiff as freshly carved from marble. He was called in to report to Megatron, and got the extra tip saying he would have to wait for Optimus to show up at the door before he could enter. Ratchet was a little surprised to see the young Decepticon for the second time in the same day, he invited the young mech to come in first but the Decepticon didn’t move an inch.

“An order is an order.” Deadlock explained.

“I recently heard that Decepticons actually have remarkable tolerance for treachery.”

“But not disobedience.” Deadlock explained patiently. “That’s a different concept.”

“Alright.” Ratchet compromised. “Whatever you say. Your leader’s temporary command base is the door next to the surgery room.”

At last, Ratchet guided the both of them in. The Decepticon went in alone first, locking the door behind him. Optimus shrugged to Ratchet and leaned to the wall.

“I thought you don’t want to join this meeting.” The Prime half-joked to light up his old friend.

“Like you said, I’m a framed mech deep in your slag. So I’d better get to know the rest of it before I pitifully drown.” The ambulance-former huffed. “And someone has to teach you people some safe interface protocols.”

The locked door was soon unlocked and Deadlock invited the Autobots back to the party. He must have heard the safe interface protocol bit.

Megatron looked magnificent. He was and had always been a mech of outstanding healing ability. His existence alone lit up the room. The leader of the Decepticons glowed with satisfaction tonight.

“So,” he began, “Here’s the thing. We managed to identify a few attackers from the Cybertronian ID database.”

“The Cybertronian ID database,” Ratchet looked at Optimus in disbelief. “is purely Autobot project so far and should remain inaccessible to you.”

Megatron gave him a rather amused look, “Or to be more specified, the old ID database, which, as prewar facility, and as agreed, should be equally accessible to both sides if still readable, which it is, today and now.”

Ratchet was about to say more when Optimus cut in, eyeing Soundwave. “Does it mean you are willing to openly share it between the two factions now.”

Megatron turned for Soundwave too, who, nodded quietly.

“Affirmative.”

“Good. Official data exchange will be handled once you’re discharged from medbay.” Optimus nodded along, “Now give me a preview of what you’ve got.”

Soundwave projected a few civilian identity files to visual feeds. The confidential marks on them were ironically golden.

The short name list flashed in the visual display, Optimus’ face was getting more and more serious reading on.

“This one.” The Prime pointed one finger at one certain name on the list. “I’m afraid I know him, personally.”

“He’s an Autobot?” Deadlock questioned.

“No.” Optimus pointed that one finger at him instead, “And who are you again?”

“Deadlock.” He said. “I lead the troop back to safety under Commander Soundwave’s instructions. Lord Megatron promised me the life of our enemy’s leader as a reward.”

Optimus gave Megatron an extremely criticizing look, “We need to have a talk on that.”

“In our next meeting.” Megatron played his innocent face.

Ratchet made an impatient cough from the other side of the room and hit the sign on the wall really hard, it said “No Flirting”.

“When did you” Optimus frowned at his friend when the silent warrior cut in again.

“If he’s not an Autobot, then what is he.” He said, “And where can I find him.”

“You don’t.” Optimus looked at the warrior skeptically, “It’s diplomatic affair if you do.”

“So a neutral.” Megatron amused, he turned for Soundwave in pure amusement, “Can’t believe Starscream is right for once in his life.”

Soundwave was audially irresponsive but no one seemed to mind.

“Alright if it’s about Jazz in your next sentence you stop right here.” Ratchet clapped his hands to stop the discussion. “I’m not hearing his slag, again.”

To his incredible surprise, Optimus stopped right there with his mouth shut.

“Oh.” Deadlock said.

In dead silence, Soundwave cut in with death sentence, nodding to the monitor in the high corner.

“Jazz: on surveillance.”

Ratchet stood right in front of Jazz’s shared house with Prowl when Deadlock sneaked in through the old chimney and walked out the front door with a tightly packed suitcase rolling down the stairs.

“Where have you been the rest of my life.” The medic rolled his optics.

The Decepticon warrior looked at him as if he just saw a cyber-elephant dancing in human dress, “I lived in the Dead End.”

Ratchet nodded in agreement of nothing at all in return.

For his credit, Jazz didn’t entirely dislike his journey in a suitcase at all. He was bit too thrilled about that the medic grew sincerely worried about his CPU.

“Whoa doc, didn’t know they taught you torture skills in one night.” The Spec Op mech spilled his guts when he saw the wrench in Ratchet’s hand approaching his helm. “OK I’m talking, I’m talking now.”

Ratchet backed off in embarrassment and met Deadlock’s purely admiring gaze on his way. The night just kept getting weirder and weirder.

“As you can see we’re holding you hostage here.” Megatron was in a mood by the looks of it. “You’d better name us a few mechs you sent spying that ship.”

“Which ship.” Jazz smiled.

“Stop fooling around.” Megatron spoke up, “You know which one we’re asking about.”

“Well I really don’t.” Jazz frowned, “There are like, twenty-three neutral ships circling this planet like two dozens of new moons right now.”

Megatron gestured to Deadlock, who held open the curtain behind him, revealing a bound Optimus Prime, who was struggling in vain under the control of Soundwave’s very sneaky, very kinky tentacles.

Jazz turned for Ratchet, who shrugged with a sigh, “What can I do, they have Optimus.”

Jazz took a deep invent and began taking the situation a little more seriously, “You still need to tell me which neutral ship you want to know about.”

“I didn’t,” Megatron leaned forward, “say anything about it being a neutral ship.”

They had the Autobot spymaster gave up all his spies’ name in three breems timd and according to him, they broke his record.

After having Soundwave examining the name list Megatron handed the datapad to Optimus. The Prime shrugged off those seemingly tight tentacles and started reading the datapad sitting on the medbay berth.

“Did I just get deeply pranked.” It took Jazz quite some while to ask straight out. “Slag, I’d never expect this from you, bossbot!”

“Welcome to the world of spies.” Soundwave played back his own voice as a response.

“Where did you get that?” The white-coloured spy roared in amusement. “And whose idea was this?”

“Who else do you think.” Ratchet rolled his optics.

“What now.” Deadlock always cut in right in time.

“Now we ask Starscream to carry out his old plan and deliver his gallery of invitations to those captains for a Vosian dinner in Iacon.” Optimus concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone else is very naughty but Deadlock is a good boy.


End file.
